To Bow with Pride
by Neural Ignition
Summary: When a man with startling green eyes who looks strikingly like James comes to tutor the young Black generation, Sirius is sure he'll hate the git. Who is this man who charms the notorious Blacks? And how does he see through Sirius' pranks? [Earlier chapters edited and beta'ed] Mentions of het, slash, femslash. But a gen fic.
1. Chapter 1

To Bow with Pride

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Frequently changing POV. Many characters' ages are different from canon (ie. Lucetia is in her mid 30s. Younger Blacks' age gaps aren't as wide as in the canon and will be revealed in chapter 2.) And Blacks being Blacks (aka Walburga's A+ parenting)

_There will be no pairing for Harry with any of the Blacks._

If you're reading this fic hoping to see romantic Harry/Bellatrix or Harry/Narcissa or Harry/any Black, unfortunately you will be disappointed.

A/N: Many thanks to Ninfea for beta'ing. (Edited April 2014)

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><p>Chapter 1.<p>

Lucretia Prewett sighed as she put down a silver necklace adorned with bright jewels. It was a grand summer solstice reunion of the noble and most ancient house of Black, so she needed to choose carefully. The caliber of the gifts showed who held the most power and wealth among the family members. It was always an unspoken competition among the Blacks, showing each other who had the most wealth to give priceless gifts.

_Well, thank Merlin we don't have as many people as the Weasleys or I would have to spend my whole fortune on this event buying gifts for hundreds of brats. No wonder the Weasleys are poor._

Lucretia eyed a delicate golden ring. It was gorgeous, though no one in the family would be suited for it. Perhaps she could get it for Cassi. Lucretia looked around to find her daughter, noticing her small head gazing at an emerald jewel pin with yearning. She stifled a laugh at how Cassi desperately feigned indifference, though her eyes kept drifting back to the pin.

"Cassi, do you think your cousin Bellatrix will like this?" asked Lucretia, holding a ring in the air for Cassi to see. Cassi walked over toward her, all the while glancing back as if to make sure the pin wouldn't disappear into thin air. Lucretia handed the ring to her. Cassi inspected the ring with doubtful expression on her face.

"I don't think cousin Bellatrix appreciates beauty when she sees one. Perhaps Narcissa or Andromeda will. Bellatrix likes Dark artifacts or books about Dark curses rather than pretty jewels. She only likes jewels if they have some nasty hex or curse she could use." Cassi shivered.

Lucretia knew Cassi didn't like Bellatrix. It may have been because of the age difference, although Lucretia suspected it was Bellatrix's penchant for viciousness.

"Would you pick out appropriate presents for your cousins while I go ask the shopkeeper something?"

Cassi's face darkened, no doubt wondering how in the world she was going to find the right present for Bellatrix. But her face soon brightened. "We have to go to Zonko's if we want to find suitable presents for Sirius and Andromeda," she exclaimed. Lucretia mentally sighed as she noted to herself to warn Sirius and Andromeda not to corrupt her daughter. Those two pranksters were far too eager to recruit their little cousin to join forces to play tricks on the family.

Lucretia made sure Cassi was engrossed in her mission and went to the counter to pay for the pin Cassi was pining for. It would be her secret gift, she smiled as she tucked the pin into her purse.

"Cassi," Lucretia called, beckoning Cassi over.

"I can't find any Dark ornaments or beautiful trinkets that would satisfy cousin Bellatrix or Narcissa," grumbled Cassi, throwing a look over her shoulder to see if the pin was still there. But Lucretia couldn't let her find out too soon.

"Then we'll have to go to other shops to see," said Lucretia, guiding her daughter out the store, smiling to herself at Cassi's grumpy demeanor.

Diagon Alley wasn't too crowded as it usually was on a week before the start of the school. The ambience was cheerful, nonetheless, with people chattering in the streets and children admiring a newly released broom in front of glass wall.

"Are we going to Zonko's?" asked Cassi, jumping up and down with excitement. Lucretia nodded as they passed several shops. Unlike other Blacks, she didn't mind her daughter behaving in such way.

The Alley was filled with excited families shopping for school supplies for the upcoming school year. Lucretia realised that she would be joining the crowd in a year. Oh how the time flew by, she thought and brushed her daughter's hair back.

Suddenly, a store window beside them shattered.

Lucretia immediately hugged Cassi close, reaching for her wand. Her heart thrummed against her ear with panic. Was that an accident or an attack? On Lucretia's left, boxes in front of the store exploded. She quickly cast a shield charm to block any fragments coming towards them. This was not an accident.

People began to scream and run to other side of the Alley, seeking protection. Spells splayed the air. Lucretia ducked as a blazing red curse shot towards one of the shops nearby, burning the door of the shop behind her. She frantically looked around. Where were they coming from?

Lucretia urgently whispered, "Cassi, we need to get out of here. Do you think you could run, so we can get to a safe place to Apparate?" Cassi nodded shakily, gulping nervously. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucretia saw a hooded figure lifting its arm to shoot another curse. Another figure aimed at the sky and shouted, "MORSMORDRE!"

Green mist shot into the air and exploded into … the Dark Mark.

Ominous greenish smoke illuminated in the sky, forming a shape of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. The surrounding clouds were dark grey as if the skull was emitting poisonous fumes that polluted everything.

High pitched screams erupted everywhere as people recognised the Dark Lord's symbol and pandemonium ensued. People were scrambling to seek shelter, some trying to keep their families close by tightly holding their hands.

Lucretia clenched her teeth in anger. Death Eater raids. She knew there were occasional raids by Death Eaters but she didn't expect them to raid a busy, guarded place such as Diagon Alley. She mustered up the energy to cast a strong shield charm around them. Then Lucretia dashed out, heading for a corner to hide, gripping Cassi's hand tightly, slipping on small fingers clammy with fear.

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><p>Everything was eerily quiet.<p>

Lucretia held her daughter's hand tightly. She whipped her head around to see if there were attackers nearby. The surrounding was quiet. She tried to subdue her erratic breathing to hear any noise. She heard a whimper coming from below. Cassi looked up at her with frightened eyes.

"Mummy?"

"Shh." Lucretia put a finger on her mouth curling her other arm around her daughter's back firmly. Lucretia shifted her feet nervously, wincing as tiny particles of concrete crackled beneath her shoes. She couldn't risk any noise bringing danger to her child.

There was a rustling behind her. She whirled around, pointing her wand in the direction where the sound came from. She had to get out of the Alley. Judging by their movements, Death Eaters were not too keen on actually attacking people, but only wanting to strike fear into every witch and wizard's heart. But she didn't want to risk it. She needed to Apparate or Floo back to the Black estate, safely behind the protective wards. But how? She tried to calm her thundering heart to concentrate on Apparating, and instead of the usual twisting feeling of Apparition she stumbled into the stone wall as she failed to Disapparate. Lucretia mentally cursed as she balanced herself. The Death Eaters had prepared wards, hemming in the busy crowd in the Alley.

Another sound.

This time, the sound was much nearer. She could feel sweat forming on her back from anxiety and panic. Cassi trembled against her hand.

She leaned on the brick wall, closing her eyes as she counted three. One.

Lucretia grasped her wand tightly, her hold on the wand slick with sweat. Two. She went through the spells and curses she would cast. She had to hold the figures back until they were behind the Anti-Disapparition wards. Three.

She pulled Cassi behind her as she fired a curse around the corner. The masked figure quickly ducked, raising a shield. She shot another curse at the other masked person hiding behind the barrel. The barrel exploded. The man rolled aside, hastily shooting a body-binding spell at her as soon as he sat up. Lucretia blocked the spell with its counter. Slashing her wand in a large arc-like motion, she sent a curse in wide range to hit both figures. She hastily brushed the hair from her face, wiping the sweat forming around her eyes. She was tiring quickly. The constant shield charm around her daughter was draining her.

Perhaps the Death Eaters didn't recognise her yet because of the distance. She wasn't a Death Eater herself, but it was widely assumed every Black either sided with the Dark or at least didn't go against it. And the influence of their family had should have ensured their safe passage anywhere in the Wizarding World.

She couldn't make out if they were aiming to injure or kill, or just stun. If that were the case, there must be at least someone in this raid who recognised her as a Black, so should she let them near? But was she so sure? It seemed almost everyone either successfully evacuated before the Anti-Apparition ward came up or hid in the houses along the Alley. She should have Apparated immediately. Lucretia inwardly cursed at herself for being too taken aback. Did the Death Eaters think she was some Order member because she didn't Apparate away and stayed in Diagon Alley to fight them?

Lucretia swirled around to avoid another curse coming towards her. She desperately jabbed her wand to Stun both figures and get her daughter away from here. Lucretia growled, exasperated, as the two easily blocked the Stunners. She couldn't prolong this any longer. It would only be to her disadvantage. Should she just shout to tell them she was a Black? Then, she felt another figure approaching from behind.

_No!_

She mentally screamed as the two in front of her fired curses. She whirled around, exposing her back to them as she embraced Cassi to block any curses that may come from the figure behind Cassi. Lucretia wrenched her eyes close.

_"Protego!"_

The figure yelled, and Lucretia felt a powerful shield buzz behind her, protecting — her and Cassi. Alarmed, she lifted her head, only to see the figure send multiples of spells, several of them Lucretia had never seen, taking down the two masked figures before she could even marvel at such skill.

She didn't dare let Cassi go. Lucretia firmly held her daughter close and listened as the figure walked over to the attackers, murmuring binding spells.

"Mummy? Mummy, are you okay?" Cassi asked in a tentative voice.

Lucretia nodded, tensing as their savior strode over to them.

"Are you injured?" The question was laced with genuine concern.

The voice was surprisingly young. From the fluidity of his movement and the radiance of the magic, she assumed the stranger would be at least thirty years of age to have possessed such experience and skill. He was immediately beside them, crouching down to meet their eyes. Lucretia raised her head to appraise the figure. He was wearing a plain, black robe. Indeed, the man was very young, possibly in his early twenties, or even younger than that. His raven hair was tousled wildly by the tense attack – or maybe it was just the way it was, as he kept running one hand through it in agitation. The most brilliant green eyes she had ever seen darted between her and her daughter.

"Are you alright?" he asked again. "I could take you to St. Mungo's …" he faltered, eyes widening for a moment. He abruptly embraced Lucretia and Cassi close, holding them protectively as a shield dome formed around them, just as curses rained down on them. Maintaining the glowing dome around Lucretia and Cassi, the man quickly drew his wand out and stormed away in the direction the curses came from. The man's magic surrounded him in its fierce intensity.

The man easily deflected the curses aimed at him, sending offensive spells at the Death Eater like a natural reflex. As the man progressed toward his assailants without faltering, smoothly blocking the curses, the Death Eater began to panic, frantically shooting curses in succession. His dueling style was not that of an Auror, she observed. Maybe a mixture of Auror and some other forms. Surely a duelist of this caliber would not have gone unnoticed had he been trained in Britain. Lucretia frowned as she recalled no name she had heard that would match the description of the man. Who was he?

One spell headed towards Lucretia and Cassi, as the first Death Eater was joined by another, no doubt trying to divert the focus of the formidable young man. The man snarled in anger as he waved his wand in a complex movement. Then another shield, this time red and net-shaped, fizzed and sparked around them, absorbing the intended curse. Lucretia's eyes widened at the magic.

Absorption shield, she thought, awed. She eyed the man with both caution and admiration as he advanced towards his target. The two Death Eaters who had been firing curses at Lucretia and Cassi from the beginning scrambled, searching something in their robes. One of them rushed to the two body-bound figures on the ground. Lucretia felt the air shift as the wards went down. The Death Eaters disappeared from the alley using Portkeys.

Lucretia saw the man sigh in frustration, running a hand through his hair. She bent down to dry the tear streaks on Cassi's face and pat her cheeks comfortingly, and stood up, straightening the wrinkles on her robes. The man was still on guard, as if expecting to have another attack that would aim them. He muttered an incantation under his breath and the wand on his hand spun around. Then after a moment, the wand came to rest. Seeing that, the man visibly relaxed.

"Thank you," said Lucretia, and felt herself truly mean it. She looked down to see if Cassi was alright, whose face was white from shock and fear. She squeezed her daughter's hand to reassure her.

"I am Lucretia Prewett, née Black, and this is my daughter Cassiopeia. We owe you our lives, Mister …" inquired Lucretia.

"Carrow. Harry Carrow."

_Carrow?_

Lucretia pursed her lips as she rummaged through the Wizarding family names in her head. It took her some time to remember what she knew about the Carrows. _I haven't heard about the Carrows for quite a while._

The Carrows were well-known for their privacy. They weren't as politically active as the Blacks or the Malfoys. They also didn't expand their economic or political influence through marriages as much as Blacks did. Lucretia was often surprised at the number of pureblood families the Blacks were related to, by blood or by marriage. However, the Carrows were not one of them. On the other hand, they were known for producing talented scholars.

Hm. She appraised the man before her. The man had fine features, and decent enough manners to put himself at risk to rescue a woman and her child. This man was righteous and honest. His green eyes were trusting, perhaps far too trusting in Lucretia's opinion. _Naïve people cannot endure this cruel world,_ she thought bitterly. But then, when she recalled the keen eyes, powerful and determined demeanor, she believed this man wasn't that callow. Besides, Cassi seemed to like him, and Lucretia trusted children's intuition. Or at least her daughter's intuition.

And the power and knowledge of spells he possessed. She could feel her eyes gleam. He would be a great asset and an ally in these times of fear. If he could be trusted, he might be a good mentor to her.

"I would like to thank you properly," she smiled earnestly. "The Blacks do not express their gratitude to their savior this poorly."

"No, no," the man waved his hands frantically. "I didn't protect you just to get some reward. Anyone would have done it if I didn't."

Indeed, Lucretia mentally rolled her eyes. She doubted it. _They're just too busy saving their own arses,_ she sneered.

"It would be considered rude if you keep insist on refusing a gesture of gratitude from people who owe it to you," she chided, raising her eyebrow to make the man feel uncomfortable. "Come with us to the Black manor."

She could not let him go so easily. This was her chance to make acquaintance with the man and establish an alliance. She trusted her own judgment and her child's. But in the unlikely event that they were both wrong about the man, the Black Manor would still be more advantageous ground for her with her relatives and the wards present.

"I, I —" he stammered, eyes wandering frantically as if looking for a way out. He didn't look as half distressed as when he was battling the Death Eater. Then he slumped, sighing. "I would like that very much," he said, smiling helplessly at them.

"Cassi, why don't you hold his hand so he could Side-Along Apparate with us?" she encouraged, nudging Cassi's shoulder towards the man. She pictured the Black Manor in her head to Apparate. It was only when she felt the familiar feeling of Apparition twisting her stomach that she remembered she didn't finish buying the presents. _Oh well,_ she mentally shrugged. _I'm bringing a much better present anyway._


	2. Chapter 2

To Bow with Pride

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Warnings: See chapter 1.

A/N: My undying gratitude goes to Ninfea for beta'ing this chapter. (Edited April 2014)

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><p>Chapter 2.<p>

Sirius Black was uncharacteristically subdued. He hid his sullen face behind a glass, taking tiny sips. Soon after he arrived at the summer gathering at the family seat, it took only one remark in Arcturus' acid drawl about Gryffindor, "Still rolling in that muggle filth, are you?" and he retreated to the corner to avoid engaging in any conversations with his relatives. The Black gathering always put Sirius on edge, in contrast to the rest of the Blacks who were fully enjoying their posh robes and dresses and flaunting their wealth and individual connections.

He was tempted to put a jinx on the food table to alleviate his anxiety. But ever since Irma had slapped Sirius in public for spiking the cocktail served at a gala two years ago, he didn't dare. Irma Black, nee Crabbe, absolutely terrified Sirius. She was one of the Heads of the Blacks, an intimidating woman with hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce into people and shred through their minds with her claws. He kept a careful eye on her – if she was heading in his direction, he would bolt out to another hiding place. Thank Merlin that Arcturus, Irma, and other Heads of the Blacks were staying at the East Wing of the Manor, far far from his room.

Home had stopped being home long time ago. Especially during the summer when most of the Blacks gathered in the Black Manor and socialised for at least a month. Sirius felt like he was treading on a war ground in the Black Manor with his vulnerabilities open — soldiering through a raft of enemies who always knew precisely where to strike to inflict the most pain.

Sirius leaned his head against the wall and sighed, wondering when his misery would end. But he tensed as he heard footsteps nearing him.

"Move out of my way," Bellatrix hissed, shoving roughly against him as she collected a glass from the buffet.

Sirius grimaced and inched away from his cousin. Bellatrix always acted like everything Sirius did raised her hackles, and Sirius had soon figured it was best to stay away. Her obsession with Dark Arts and constant mockery towards his Gryffindor friends put Sirius in constant conflict with his cousin.

He sorely missed his friends. Sirius wondered what others were doing. Remus was probably studying for O. W. L. s already; James and Sirius would cram for two weeks before the exams like they had always done. Peter might be practicing Quidditch with James.

Sirius ignored the pang in his heart. He broke out of his reverie when he noticed a stranger among the old coots.

That was odd. Was he one of the distant or estranged relatives?

Sirius scanned the stranger. He was surprised to see his relatives not clucking their tongues at the man's tousled, unruly hair, a style his relatives always detested. The man looked quite charming, but Sirius had thought the Blacks favored cool, cunning faces, claiming such features as "pureblood." The man exuded confidence and had the stance of an experienced soldier, both alert and relaxed at the same time. Who was he?

He caught Cassi's eyes and waved playfully. His favorite little cousin was standing beside her mother who was talking to the stranger with genuine appreciation on her face. Sirius was surprised. Aunt Lucretia didn't often have such a look on her face when dealing with strangers.

Sirius disliked Lucretia less for being the sanest among his relatives and for her witty retorts. Sure, she took the blood purity into account when judging someone, but it wasn't as extreme as other relatives. It also helped that she didn't bash on him and his Gryffindor allegiance.

He snickered as Andromeda too was stung by a barb from Arcturus' tongue and joined him in his corner space, accompanied by Narcissa. "Who is the new bloke?" Sirius asked her, tilting his head towards the stranger. She looked relieved to drop the fake smile especially worn for their relatives.

"Dunno. Heard he saved Lucretia and Cassi from the Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley," answered Andromeda.

"What? Are they okay?" asked Sirius, alarmed. Sirius scanned Lucretia and Cassi and sighed in relief when he couldn't see any visible harm.

"Is he pureblood?" asked Narcissa, glancing at the man.

"I don't know. But I'm sure that he's at least half pureblood. And I mean _pure _pureblood, not like those Weasleys who degrade themselves by marrying filth, but a regal and noble pureblood," said Bellatrix from behind them, making Sirius jump, appraising the man with sharp eyes. "Of course he can't have those features and manners without having some pureblood in his blood," she smirked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, cousin, but 'pureblood' doesn't inherently have aesthetic features. Look at Goyle. The git is as pureblood as he can get and he looks like a direct descendant of a troll."

Andromeda smothered a laughter.

"Yes, just like how you're pureblood and you act like a mangy mutt," Bellatrix shot back.

Sirius ignored her.

Andromeda coughed. "He looks dashing," Andromeda grinned, waggling her eyebrows, trying to lighten up the mood.

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. He thought Dromeda had a crush on a Hufflepuff. At least, that's what she'd be been denying shrilly whenever he teased her about it. Not that he did so near any other Blacks – that would be cruel, considering her parents were the most dreadful in their unadulterated hatred for Muggles and mudbloods. When she demanded to be told how he knew about her secret studying sessions with her Hufflepuff, Sirius would avoid answering by simply running away. Of course he couldn't tell her Sirius and his friends were roaming and inspecting 7th floor to complete the Marauder's Map. Sirius almost felt that having James' Invisibility Cloak was cheating; snooping was so easy.

Sirius staggered as someone lightly punched him in the arm. It was Uncle Alphard. "Having fun, Sirius?" Bellatrix took one look at him and stalked away, sneering. "Hullo, Narcissa." Narcissa gave Alphard a nod.

"Oh yeah," replied Sirius, rolling his eyes.

Uncle Alphard nodded knowingly. Among the Blacks, Alphard was one of the very few people he could relate to. Alphard precariously balanced himself between being a member of the Black family, albeit barely meeting their expectations, and being a wizard who befriended muggleborns and even Muggles, masterfully disguising the latter side to their relatives – except he loved his half-Muggle, half-wizard fashion which irritated the Blacks. Sirius knew Alphard earned Narcissa's respect for his extensive traveling.

Alphard was the very first person other than his friends who told Sirius that it was okay to be a Gryffindor. He had hugged Sirius and said he was proud to have a nephew with the heart of a lion.

"Why aren't you in that group, Uncle Alphard?" Sirius asked, pointing with his chin at the group around the stranger.

"Nah," he waved his hand dismissively. "Heard the man attended Durmstrang. That's an outright label for pureblood worshipers. And you know how much I want to befriend those people."

"He looks like a bloody ponce to me," Sirius mumbled.

Alphard slowly shook his head and gave Sirius a look of mock concern and pity.

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><p>Lucretia applauded her cleverness in bringing the stranger home. Carrow, or Harry as she'd been invited to call him, was indeed a great find. Harry was clearly brilliant. He had driven off those Death Eaters without a twitch. He was fending off the Blacks in their own home with deft skill, handling Druella's grilling on his Durmstrang education and Cassi tugging on his sleeve to demand whether he could play Quidditch with equal patience and courtesy. He had even charmed that old grouch Irma into, if not outright acceptance, then forbearance.<p>

But with every answer he gave, five more would leap to Lucretia's lips, and she was struggling to hold her tongue. If he was British-born, why did he go to Durmstrang when his cousins went to Hogwarts? Why was he reluctant to talk about his relatives? How and where did he learn all that advanced magic?

Still, even with his mystery, his power and charm was magnetic.

Lucretia could see the fleeting, shrewd glint in her relatives' eyes as they stared at the man. Blacks had a knack for identifying any sort of profit or advantage for self-preservation. They all were thinking the same thing. Establish a tie with this man. And exploit the man's obvious soft-heartedness with children.

The elder Blacks with children in Hogwarts decided to seize the opportunity. Walburga and Orion exchanged glances, and beside them, Cygnus coolly nodded to Druella and she gave him an approving smile.

Regulus would be in his 4th year, and Sirius and Narcissa in their 5th. They could ask for the man's help with their O. W. L. s. and Andromeda with her N. E. W. T. s. As for Bellatrix, for her upcoming final year in Hogwarts, she wanted to secure her top rank and reputation in Hogwarts Dueling club before she graduated.

"Did you hear about the current British Dark Lord, Mr. Carrow?" asked Druella, clearly unable to restrain herself any further. Suddenly people around them broke into murmurs about the Dark.

"Yes. Speaking of which, I didn't know the Death Eaters decided to employ offensive tactics," said the man, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh now, about that matter," Irma bustled. "How dare they sweep you, members of the Black family, into the middle of Diagon Alley! You are all right, aren't you, my dears?" Irma patted Cassi's cheek again. Cassi cringed and shied away from Irma's hand. Lucretia growled inwardly. _That woman_, she sighed.

"Don't take it too personally." Irma advised them. "The Dark Lord knows our allegiance lies with him. I'm sure it wasn't his intention to hurt you."

"Even if it wasn't the intention, the end result was us almost getting killed," Lucretia bristled.

Imra waved it off. "I'm sure it was mere intimidation."

The man turned to face Irma. "Allegiance? So does the Black family formally support the Dark Lord?"

Pollux coughed. "Well … Allegiance might be a strong word," said Pollux, trying to be diplomatic. Irma threw a reproachful look at him. She preferred straightforwardness rather than convoluted slyness with intentional ambiguity.

"But that is not to say we don't agree with his views on muggles and mudbloods," Pollux hastily added after eyeing Irma's disgruntled face.

"Well at least mudbloods have magic," said Orion grudgingly. "Nonetheless, they risk too much exposure for the Wizarding World, having their feet in both the muggle and Wizarding World."

The Blacks around them nodded and murmured in agreement, their spite towards muggles and muggleborns flashing in their eyes.

* * *

><p>Sirius cautiously eyed Orion, Walburga, Cygnus, and Druella surrounding the man with too eager looks on their faces. He couldn't help but applaud the stranger for holding his ground against the team of notorious four Blacks.<p>

"Why are they looking at us? They look cheerful. That usually means someone's going to be hurt," said Sirius with dread pooling in his stomach. It didn't help that Alphard's look of pity was quite genuine before he walked away to entertain Marius Black who recently came back from Austria.

"You're overreacting again," Bellatrix sneered, clearly unfazed at their parents' scheme. Sirius ignored her and turned to Andromeda who was sharing a piece of dessert with Narcissa.

Andromeda looked over at the crowd, assessing the interaction between the man and their parents. The man's expression remained politely blank until Druella stepped closer and said something, joined by Cygnus. The stranger seemed confused at first. Then as Lucretia chimed in, gesturing at Cassi and also towards the younger Blacks who were watching from afar, he contemplated for a while and nodded in agreement. Their parents smiled in relief.

"Children." Druella approached them with a satisfied smile on her lips. She looked like the cat who got at the cream. The stranger looked like he'd had an unexpected windfall, and was smiling at them with an amused glint in his eyes. Sirius eyed him suspiciously.

"I believe we found you a tutor," said Druella, gesturing at the man. "Mr. Carrow is a very skilled wizard and has extensive knowledge in various areas of magic. We deem his assistance to be helpful to your studies and preparations for exams."

"What? We just got out of school a week ago!" Sirius protested.

"We, as in —?" inquired Narcissa.

"Your father and I. And, of course, Orion and Walburga. Lucretia wants Mr. Carrow to teach Cassi the basic theories of magic in general and help her with Potions, and we figured all of you may appreciate his help for your exams."

"How do you know he's so 'skilled' when you've only known him for less than a day?" snapped Sirius, feeling ridiculous that they would appoint the man with dubious background.

"Lucretia can attest to his skills." His mother silently scolded Sirius, her cold coal-like eyes drilling into Sirius'. _And are you doubting our judgment?_ He dropped his eyes to the floor, fuming.

"I need help with Defense," said Andromeda, shrugging.

Lucretia, who had been standing beside the man, smiled.

"From what I gathered watching Mr. Carrow dueling, he's beyond capable in Defense as well as offensive magic, I can guarantee you that." The man flushed at her compliment. Sirius rolled his eyes.

Narcissa stared at the man with unreadable expression. "Are you good at Transfiguration?"

The man smiled, flicking his wand. The dessert on the plate Narcissa was holding turned into an opal swan pendant. Sirius snorted at the man's flirtatious gesture. Surprisingly, Narcissa seemed to take it well, with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She nodded in approval.

A small voice said in the back: "I wish to improve my Potions skills."

_Fine, be a good, little mama's boy,_ he scowled at his brother.

"I can't prove my Potions skill on the spot, but I can help you with the background theories necessary and helpful to understand the Potions and brewing." Harry nodded, smiling.

"Okay," Regulus nodded. "That's fine with me."

"But we don't _have any guarantee or proof_ that you are, in fact, talented and capable of teaching us," said Sirius, determined to undermine whatever cover the man had. Then he yelped as he felt a hand pinching his ribs.

_"Sirius, Cousin,"_ Andromeda forcibly smiled, clenching her teeth at the same time. "We'll figure that out when he tutors us few times first. If he's not good at it, we can always tell him that we don't need the tutoring." People around nodded in agreement. Sirius growled. He was losing it. He sighed, deciding to resort to extreme measures.

"Dear cousin Bellatrix, surely you don't trust this stranger to tutor us?" he asked, stiffly smiling. Bellatrix just ignored him, turning towards Lucretia.

"Did you say his skills in dueling were remarkable, Aunt Lucretia?" inquired Bellatrix sweetly, narrowing her eyes in interest.

"Oh yes. You should have seen the spells he used on them, also casting a magnificent shield to protect us all the while. Mr. Carrow, how did you deflect the curses in succession? I didn't know one could do that."

"Spell deflection?" gaped Bellatrix, eyes darting at the man in shock. Lucretia smirked at Bellatrix's reaction.

"And he also cast an absorption shield," she grinned, raising her eyebrows. Bellatrix's eyes were practically radiating with greed as she stared at the man who was ruffling his hair in embarrassment.

The man coughed. "Well, yes."

"You _have_ to teach me how to deflect spells and how to cast the absorption shield," Bellatrix all but leaped at the man. The man looked startled at first but nodded.

"Well, I guess that settles it then," said Druella, clasping her hands. She stared at each young Black, beaming. "With the exception of Sirius, Mr. Carrow will tutor the areas you need help with."

Sirius sighed in irritation. Well, at least that was fine with him. Until his mother barged in.

"Oh no, Sirius Orion Black, you may pretend you don't need any help, but I saw your recent grades, and they appeared as if they need some help," his mother said with disdain, crossing her arms, and glared at him.

_Damn_, Sirius cursed. It wasn't that Sirius needed help. He and James were too busy researching Animagi and discarded studying for the exams. Both of them were determined to become Animagi this year and didn't care about their studies, even less than usual.

"Only one dropped from O to E!" he seethed.

"They shouldn't have dropped at all!" his mother screeched. "Regulus always maintains his grade!"

_Yeah, as D, I'm sure_, Sirius grumbled inwardly.

"Sirius, your mother and I are concerned about your grades. Even before this, we thought of asking for help if you need it —"

"Well, I don't need it!" said Sirius shortly.

"You don't get to decide this. Your grades dropped and you're not studying. So, have a tutor to help you or no Hogsmeade visits for next year!"

Sirius stared at his parents, unfazed. He actually felt like laughing out loud at the threat. As if that would stop him. Sirius never felt more gratitude towards James for coming up with the idea of the Marauder's Map. Although…

"All right, Carrow: how much do you know about Transfiguration?" Sirius smirked slyly.

The man remained infuriatingly calm and confident as he answered. "Quite. I've got a good grasp on human to nonhuman transfiguration both active and passive, voluntary and involuntary, and object to object transfiguration."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. Was Animagus transformation included in voluntary and active human no nonhuman transfiguration? Sirius mentally went through the table of contents of major Transfiguration textbook. He paused, scowling. Sirius would not admit he needed help with Animagus transformation. It was going smoothly; he was taking the necessary steps as indicated in the textbook that James had nicked from the Restricted Section.

But the man's answers seemed to satisfy his mother who gave a pleased nod.

"I believe that's settled then," said Druella.

This was going to be a rough summer.


	3. Chapter 3

To Bow with Pride

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Warnings: See chapter 1

A/N: Many thanks to Ninfea for the beta (Edited May 2014)

* * *

><p>Chapter 3.<p>

Sirius scowled.

He simply could not get rid of Carrow. During the last weeks and a half, he expected – hoped – at least someone would complain about the man's inability to teach, but no one did. Every time he told his parents that Carrow was a lousy teacher and taught him nothing — which was actually true, because Sirius was avoiding him — Walburga and Orion ignored him and asked the others about their lessons instead. Of course, the others were more than satisfied with Carrow's magical skills.

From hearing bits of conversation among Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Regulus, and even Cassi, it seemed Carrow was indeed teaching them well. He had noticed they were talking about Carrow, casually referring to him as Harry as if they already became friends with him. When they gathered all they talked about was Harry taught me this, Harry told me that, Harry showed me the other, all that rubbish.

Sirius refused to learn from Carrow. So whenever Carrow came into his room, Sirius ignored him and did something else: reading books, and casting random spells, which infuriatingly, Carrow always successfully blocked if aimed at him. But the man would just sit back, doing his own things — Merlin-knew-what since Sirius didn't want to peek. His pride didn't allow him to. Days went by in such patterns, with Sirius expecting Carrow to explode in frustration and march out of his room at any moment. But no — the man would simply sit in his room, never pressuring Sirius to listen to him or look at him or whatever rubbish teachers expect students to do.

One day, ten days after Harry arrived at the Black Manor, the silence became too much for Sirius. His body was itching from this dead silence. He shifted his feet. Sirius stared at Carrow, sitting in a corner, who was reading a tome and to any observer deep in thought.

"What do you teach the others?" Sirius blurted. He mentally groaned as Carrow slowly lifted his head from the book and lifted the corner of his lips slightly. Sirius felt he had just lost an unspoken game.

"Oh, you know. Things." Carrow shrugged. He laid the atrociously thick book on the desk with a heavy thud.

Sirius blinked. "Things," he repeated.

"Yes. I teach them what they want to learn."

"Oh? So, do you teach Unforgivables and Dark Arts to Bellatrix?" Sirius sneered.

Carrow stared at him. "No," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Not quite."

"What? You don't?" Sirius was genuinely surprised. The Blacks were usually considered Dark, but to Sirius, it seemed that Bellatrix was the one with the penchant for cruelty. Sirius knew no one else that had the inclination to cast such Dark magic. "Well, _what_ do you teach her?"

"I teach her how to duel," Carrow said. Sirius twisted his face — _Ha! And using chickens for the Blood-boiling Curse!_ — but Carrow continued on. "She wanted to know the formalities, the vows that are associated with some duels, and how the magic plays its role in a Wizard's duel."

Sirius was _not_ going to admit that he was a bit fascinated by the topic. Not at all. "No mock duels? No curses at dummies? No casting Imperius, Cruciatus, Avada Kedavra on tarantulas?"

"Yes — mostly practicing aiming — and definitely no," Carrow said, incredulous. "You seem to be a bit … biased against your cousin."

"Biased? A bit?" Sirius snorted. "I have spent my entire life with her nearby. I _know _what she's like. She cast a wandless Cruciatus at a house elf when she was thirteen." He shuddered.

"How do you know if it was Cruciatus at all?" Carrow regarded him with a thoughtful gaze.

"Obviously, the twitching, whimpering, and shrieking are the effects of Cruciatus," Sirius replied defensively.

"Not necessarily. Cruciatus is not the only curse that brings out such a response from victims," Carrow pointed out.

Sirius unconsciously shivered at the thought of other curses existing that worked like Cruciatus.

"There's a reason that Cruciatus curse is an Unforgiveable. The pain it inflicts is only a heartbeat away from death. And prolonged exposure to Cruciatus curse can break one's mind and render it beyond repair. If Bellatrix had indeed cast it on the house elf, the Ministry would have contacted the Blacks," Carrow said reasonably.

"In case you haven't noticed, we can cast magic in this house without having the Ministry sent its owls a dozen times a day with Underage warnings. The wards prevent anyone from knowing underage magic is performed within this house."

"Ah, I suspected that."

_Oh, did you?_ Sirius rolled his eyes in irritation.

Carrow continued on, moving into teaching mode. "And in order to cast Cruciatus curse, you have to feel intense hatred toward the victim. I don't think a house elf not doing his or her work in a satisfactory manner would spur enough hatred to cast a Cruciatus."

"Maybe you don't know Bellatrix very well," Sirius said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

He glared at Carrow, and returned to his book absent-mindedly. Anyone sympathising or understanding Bellatrix was a red alert for Sirius. Besides, Carrow had graduated from Durmstrang. He remembered what Uncle Alphard had said, Carrow very likely was a pureblood worshiper on that fact alone. _But,_ a small voice whispered insistently, _Andromeda wouldn't associate with him if she thought he was like that._

Sirius studiously ignored Carrow's presence beside him.

* * *

><p>Regulus flexed his wrist discreetly, not wanting Harry to notice his tiredness. They were working on the Shrinking Potion. Chopping daisy roots was not as easy a process as it looked. He didn't know if daisy roots were stiff and hard in general or if his daisy roots were particularly uncooperative. He peeked at Harry only to see him staring at his flexing wrist with concern.<p>

"Here, let me help you." Harry took the wretched daisy roots out of his hands and started to cut them himself swiftly. The room was silent except the rhythmic sound of chopping. Regulus couldn't help but have his mind drift off.

It had been awkward at first. Regulus had been nervous and reticent during his first few encounters with Harry. Regulus had first called the man as Mr. Carrow, only to have the man wrinkle his nose in dislike and insist Regulus called him Harry, saying that it made him feel old. After few sessions, Regulus was finally starting to get comfortable with referring to the man as Harry.

Harry had seemed perfectly at ease, whereas Regulus had been rigid out of stranger anxiety. The awkwardness that made Regulus fidget in the beginning of each session quickly dissipated as soon as Harry explained the spells and potions in such contagious enthusiasm that also made Regulus excited, It had been odd to see a grown-up act with such passion, reminding Regulus of a child going on and on about the newly released broom. But seeing it almost every day made it somehow admirable. Deep inside, Regulus was comforted that becoming an adult did not mean loss of passion in life. Other adults he had seen in his life often had dull eyes. Regulus assessed Harry again. The spectacles Harry wore did not dim the vivacious sparkle in his eyes.

Regulus' mind focused on the present as Harry shifted in his seat.

"Shall we stop for a bit?" Harry said, stretching his arms with a mock groan. Regulus nodded as he too stretched.

"Merlin, those daisy roots are hard to cut as sopophorous beans! Well, in a different way," Harry added.

"Right, because they're oddly slippery despite their appearance," Regulus said in a student manner.

"Yes," he smiled in compliment, as if to say '10 points to Slytherin.' "It's much easier to crush the beans if you need the juice than cutting them."

Regulus made a mental note of it. He looked down at his gooey, porridge like potion. He was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be like that.

"I don't think my Potions skills would ever improve," Regulus mumbled, suddenly feeling morose. He knew it was impossible, with his clumsy fingers and all. Regulus let out a sigh.

"Nonsense! I was much worse than you in Potions but here I am," Harry said, gesturing at himself in a showy, exaggerated manner. Regulus gave a small smile at his theatrical behavior. "I didn't really have a nice professor for Potions. Er, he hated my guts." Harry grimaced and stirred the potion. "I transferred my hatred of the teacher to the subject. And you know how you cannot do well in something you dislike. After graduating, I learned Potions from a different Potions Master. It was nothing like I'd seen in my school days," said Harry. "How each property of potion ingredients come together to form a liquid substance that has effect, how one ingredient change can render completely opposite effect, how there are still immense possibility of new potions, and — " he stopped short, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, pushing his spectacles up on his nose. "I got carried away. Again," Harry said sheepishly.

Regulus laughed. "It's alright. It's quite amusing to see you like that, actually." He grinned at the mock affronted look Harry shot at his direction. Merlin, he was getting used to Harry to the point he was jesting with him.

"I like that aspect of Potions, too. Though how rat tails are used in hair-raising potion is beyond me. It's amazing," Regulus emphasised. "But very … disturbing."

Regulus helplessly smiled as Harry launched an explanation of how rat tails are used. As he mentioned, Harry's enthusiasm was contagious.

* * *

><p>Regulus gulped nervously as he finished casting Silencing charm and locked the door. He didn't want any intruders or disturbers when he was brewing this potion.<p>

"Mistress says Master Regulus mustn't brew potions without supervision," Kreacher grumbled, fidgeting anxiously.

"That's why I have you with me," Regulus said, grounding bicorn horn. He looked up at stunned Kreacher. "I know you would protect me." Regulus grinned. "I trust you, Kreacher."

Kreacher coughed, embarrassed, bringing his spidery hands up to his face to conceal wet moisture forming in his eyes. "Kreacher always protects Master Regulus," Kreacher said solemnly, his ears twitching upwards in determination.

Regulus nodded and turned his attention to the directions. He frowned. What did this mean? The statement was ambiguous as to how the knotgrass should be added to the potion.

"Kreacher, what do you think this direction means?" he asked, crouching for Kreacher to get a better view, and pointed to the direction. Kreacher leaned forward, eyes squinting to decipher the letters. Regulus had taught Kreacher how to read since he was 9 years old. Kreacher had shunned away from it at first, muttering how dare a house elf learn to read or write. It was only after Regulus convinced Kreacher that teaching him was a way of helping himself how to read that had Kreacher finally relented.

Regulus waited patiently as Kreacher fingered each letter, mouthing the words silently. He looked up in utter befuddlement and bowed deeply in apologetic manner, his head nearly touching the floor.

"Kreacher is a dimwitted creature who can't help Master Regulus," he mumbled, tugging at his worn out clothes. Regulus made a mental note to persuade his mother to get Kreacher decent clothes. Or possibly free him.

"I guess, I should just put it in the potion," said Regulus, scratching his head. He tossed the knotgrass into the cauldron.

BANG.

The cauldron exploded as soon as the knotgrass touched the surface of the potion, sending its boiling content all over the room. Regulus scrunched his eyes shut, swearing mentally for not being able to cast a shield charm that quickly.

Then he heard fingers snap hastily with an astonished cry. Regulus hesitantly opened his eyes, only to stare at an invisible shield blocking the steaming goo of a potion. Kreacher had his hands stretched toward, standing in front of Regulus as if to protect him. No, Kreacher had indeed protected him.

"Is master Regulus all right?" Kreacher asked in trembling voice.

"Yes, I'm fine," Regulus breathed, his heart racing from the previous shock. Regulus frantically eyed the room to assess the mess. Nothing he couldn't handle with _Scourgify_.

His eyes widened as he took in Kreacher's burnt fingers.

"Kreacher!" he cried. "Kreacher, are you alright?"

Regulus quickly cast Scourgify to get rid of the mess and knelt down on the floor, reaching for Kreacher. Kreacher was clutching his fingers, his face slightly wrenched up in agony. When he saw Regulus stare at him in concern, Kreacher feigned nonchalance, hiding his hands behind his back.

"Kreacher is fine, Master Regulus," he mumbled, avoiding Regulus' eyes. Kreacher slowly attempted to move away from Regulus' scrutinising gaze.

"I saw the burn on your finger, Kreacher. I have a healing salve, come on – " Regulus insisted.

"Master Regulus mustn't waste a healing salve on mere house elf like Kreacher," he muttered.

Regulus scowled at Kreacher's unbearable self-deprecation. "I'm not _wasting_ the salve. I'm _healing_ you, Kreacher. You got hurt saving me. How's that supposed to be a waste?" he said, reaching for the salve.

Then the door slammed open.

Both Regulus and Kreacher whipped their heads to the door, startled and frightened. For a moment, Regulus panicked. _I thought I had cast Silencing and Locking Charm, _he thought, alarmed. Was his skill in Charms that atrocious, not even able to cast such simple charms?

Harry stood by the door, eyes frantic with worry.

"What happened? I thought I felt an explosion here," he said, assessing Regulus and Kreacher for any damages.

"Kreacher! You're burnt!" he exclaimed, as he spotted Regulus holding Kreacher's burnt fingers. Regulus smirked at Kreacher's discomfort. Kreacher would have not only Regulus but also the new tutor to pester him regarding his health.

Realising that, Regulus appraised Harry with a new perspective. Most people didn't care about so-called 'inferior beings.' That was why Regulus didn't regard Sirius as a wonderful, decent person, regardless of how loyal he may be to his friends. He did think Sirius was talented in certain areas of magic, but as a human being in general, Sirius was an arsehole sometimes.

Regulus summoned the salve while Kreacher was distracted and applied it to his fingers. Kreacher hissed lowly, trying to withdraw his fingers from Regulus' stubborn hand. "Master Regulus mustn't —" he protested.

"Oh, shush Kreacher," said both Regulus and Harry. They looked at each other, startled, and burst into laughter. While laughing, Regulus felt his face heat up as he noticed the soft, gentle look in Harry's eyes behind the round spectacles. Sirius had only gazed at him oddly in times like this, as if silently asking why Regulus would even care about the 'worthless creature.' But this — this man, he recognised kindness when he saw one. Kindness, tenderness, friendship, love, and other values that were often overlooked. Regulus felt a warm tingle in his chest.

After Regulus finished bandaging Kreacher's fingers, Kreacher awkwardly bowed and hastily Disapparated away. Soft chuckles sounded the room at Kreacher's embarrassment.

"I haven't seen that many people caring for their house elves," Harry said softly, appraising Regulus with curious gaze.

"Kreacher has been with me ever since I could remember of my childhood. He took care of me when mother and father were busy attending Ministry galas." Regulus tried to conceal the bitterness in his voice. He also had Sirius but well …

"Ah, I had a friend, a house elf, who always tried to help me — although sometimes his help wasn't exactly helpful by conventional means. But he was a good friend," he smiled wistfully.

"What happened?" Regulus asked carefully, hoping he wasn't disturbing a past wound.

Harry blinked. He nibbled his lips with a slightly confused look on his face. Harry stared into space for a moment.

"I don't know," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm not sure what happened to him."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Harry placed his chin on his hand and seemed to ponder. Regulus fidgeted nervously beside him.

Harry sat upright and clapped his hands. Regulus was glad to see the sparkle back in his eyes.

"Now, what happened? Which potion were you trying to brew so discreetly, hm?"

Regulus quickly mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Polyjuice Potion."

"WHAT?" Harry cried. "You know better than to brew a potion like that with no supervision!"

"Well, I had Kreacher," Regulus replied, smiling sheepishly, but Harry didn't return the smile.

"It might've been worse if Kreacher wasn't able to protect you! What made you brew Polyjuice potion anyway?" he asked, exasperated.

"It seemed interesting," Regulus said, staring at the floor. He tugged a strand of hair nervously, a habit he learned while observing the man. "And I wanted to practice before our lesson," Regulus mumbled, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "I wanted to improve brewing skill."

"I understand that you want to practice yourself, but I don't want you to feel pressure that you have to improve for our each lesson," Harry said gently, his eyes wandering on Regulus' face. "That's why I'm here, to help you. I'm not here to test you each week if you've improved or not. It is okay to ask for help. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all need help sometime in our lives."

"Okay," Regulus whispered. He felt as if an invisible hippogriff on his chest flew away at Harry's words.

* * *

><p>"Hullo, Aunt Lucretia. Great to see you pop by," said Andromeda. "Is Cassi here too?"<p>

"Yes, she's out in the parlor with Harry learning Potions ingredients."  
>Both women turned their heads towards the parlor and smiled. Their eyes darted between Harry who was explaining the properties of each Potions ingredient and Cassi who was listening with attentive eyes, drinking in every word. Cassi's eyes had visible awe in them.<p>

Lucretia turned her attention to the _Daily Prophet._ The title of the main article read _"War Ahead? Conflicts between the Two Sides Worsen Each Day."_

Lucretia sighed at another article saying the war was upon them. In the last months, or perhaps years, the _Daily Prophet_ had been producing countless articles dealing with the possible outbreak of war, probably aiming to get more people to read. She was starting to think because people had been hearing about the possibility of war since last year, it had become an every-day routine for people to hear about it. It became too casual. People were becoming indifferent. When the actual war starts, it would be chaos.

But, what did it take for people to perceive it as _war_? Considering the Death Eater raids happening nowadays, wasn't that enough to be a war? Or did it take a whole town to be wiped out for the _Daily Prophet_ to declare the current state as war?

She had been in fear of oncoming war for the sake of Cassi. War was an ugly event that Lucretia never wanted Cassi to experience. She hoped the Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley was the closest thing to a war that Cassi would experience for the first and last time.

Lucretia closed her eyes as she was reminded of the heart-gripping fear she felt for her child's safety.

What kind of parents would want their child to go through war? She mentally paused as some familiar names popped up in her head at that question and grimaced.

"Did something else happen other than the Order and Death Eaters bickering at each other?" asked Andromeda. Her shoulders silently shook with strained laughter as she saw Cassi's face scrunch up in disgust as Harry mentioned a bezoar came from a goat's stomach. Harry held out the bezoar to Cassi and she reluctantly took it in her hands. Cassi's mouth stretched downward in grim expression. Her eyes met Andromeda's. Cassi quietly mouthed 'yuck' at her, lifting the bezoar for her to see. Andromeda grinned.

"No … Wait," Lucretia scanned the article swiftly and lifted her head with a frown. "A new group of people who insist on labeling blood-status emerged."

"Really?" Andromeda straightened up.

"Muggleborns call this group as 'sanguinist,'" said Lucretia. "'They are not at all different from those who judge people based on their ethnic identity, their race. They're racist. For them, it's not about race but blood,'" she quoted. "Hm. Interesting." Lucretia rubbed her chin, pondering. She noticed in the corner of her eye Andromeda directing a rapt attention at the article. Someday, Lucretia would ask Andromeda about her active curiosity about muggleborns.


	4. Chapter 4

To Bow with Pride

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Warnings: See chapter 1

A/N: Again, thanks to Ninfea for the beta. (Edited May 2014)

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Bellatrix held her breath, concentrating on the target before her. This was her fourth time trying to cast the spell. She either kept missing the target or the spell wouldn't form. She jabbed her want and hissed the incantation.

Once again the spell just frizzled from the tip of her wand like a failed attempt to light fireworks. Bellatrix snarled in frustration and whipped her wand, an incantation for a Dark spell slipping past her lips.

The dummy exploded with dark smoke fuming out of it.

_Shit_.

"Why did you use a Dark spell instead of the spell we just learned?" asked Harry, eyeing the dummy with an unreadable expression.

"Well it accomplished what I wanted anyway." She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Why does it matter?" she said, forcing her voice to be casual.

"But we were practicing this spell, Bellatrix."

"So what _—_I got rid of the dummy. If I were in a real duel, it wouldn't matter."

"Yes, it _would _matter," Harry said calmly. "If you're only trying to injure your opponent but you end up killing him, I think there's a vast difference."

"What's the point of leaving your opponent alive?"

Harry seemed shocked. "Are you always going to engage in a life or death battle? If you are in a battle, it's better to incapacitate your opponent and extract information from them."

"All the more reasons to use some Dark Arts and Unforgivables, then." Nothing squeezes truth out of people like Dark Arts.

"There are other spells you can use to achieve the same ends."

"Okay, I _will _use them later," Bellatrix muttered through gritted teeth.

Harry sensed the finality of her tone and let the subject drop.

* * *

><p>Andromeda was moping, instead of learning one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts spell as Harry was trying to teach her. She missed seeing her friends. And Ted. She corresponded with her friends via owls — the other day her friend wrote to Andromeda about her trip to Italy — but with Ted, there was no way to contact him in case her relatives decided to be nosy and opened up her letters.<p>

Hogwarts was the only place she could meet Ted safely. Outside of school, it was too risky to see him.

All the political tension surrounding her emotions often overwhelmed her. It was so simple, to like someone. But in this world, it was more than an emotion — it was a politically charged move depending on whom you loved. And when the person you came to love stood for everything your whole family had taught you to dismiss and disdain …

Andromeda envied those who could freely love without fear. Those around her would excitedly talk about their crushes in hushed tones, giggling, while Andromeda sat quietly. Of course she could consider herself lucky because her feelings were requited, but that didn't ease the matters.

But since it had been nearly the end of the school year when she did realise Ted liked her too, she was still bubbling with happiness — and it was such a torture not being able to share that. Andromeda wanted to rush into every room in the Black Manor and shout she loved Ted and Ted loved her back — she wanted to announce it to the whole world. Sod the pureblood politics, she was in love! But her spurs of bravery would quickly dampen into morose disappointment and utter loneliness of not having anyone in the family to share it with except Sirius. Not even her sisters could know about it.

"I recognise that look on your face," Harry said. "Come on, spill the beans."

Andromeda swallowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I know a love-stricken look when I see one. So, what's he — or she — like?"

Andromeda averted her gaze. "Nothing. There's no one."

Harry shrugged. "Okay, fine." Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Have it your way. But I'm here to listen to whatever you want to talk about."

She wanted to tell him. Oh, how marvelous would it be to tell someone — tell Harry about Ted, about Ted's kindness, his loyalty, his little habit of sneaking a fruit or two into his pocket for night-time snacks, what it sounds like when Ted says her name …

Andromeda swallowed again, and cleared her throat. "Is there a charm or magical artefact that lets you communicate with someone far away without resorting to owls?"

"Ah, yes. You can enchant a notebook and embed both of your magical signatures. But you need the other person to cast the spell beside you."

_Dammit_. Andromeda realised she couldn't owl the notebook to Ted anyway. _Maybe next summer?_Andromeda wondered hopefully.

* * *

><p>A week after Bellatrix's destruction of the dummy, she was almost bored to death when Harry came up with an absolutely exquisite suggestion.<p>

"Would you like to duel?"

Bellatrix perked up, her eyes searching Harry's face, trying to judge if he meant it. But then, Harry never had brought up something if he did not mean it. Sometimes, the man was such a Gryffindor.

They were taking a break after finishing the Leg-Stitching curse. The name made the curse seem like a healing spell used for stitching torn flesh in legs. But Bellatrix knew it didn't work like that when she read the description in one of the books about Dark Arts she came across in the Black library. It was rather a nasty curse. The curse literally stitched up victim's two legs, tearing through the skin and veins, crushing the bones, resulting in one floppy limb like that of the merfolk.

To Bellatrix, the effect of the curse on an engorged spider was rather quite amusing, though Harry didn't seem to find it equally funny. She kept casting the curse on the spider, stitching eight legs to four … to two … to one, until the spider could hardly be recognised as a living organism. She could feel the skin breaking off and latching on the other limb's skin through the magical tendril extended from the tip of her wand, vibrating with power. The Dark Arts usually had such vibration traveling through the wand. Bellatrix unconsciously reveled in the gentle buzzing that shook her soul.

Harry was meticulously polishing his wand with a velvet cloth. The expression on his face seemed as if he were cleaning thick blood stains off his wand, a stain that never lifted despite the firm strokes. After three weeks of observing Harry during their twice a week sessions, she found out that was some ritual Harry had always done after practicing Dark Arts.

Their sessions had fallen into an irregular pattern, if that even made sense. Occasionally Bellatrix would ask Harry if he could explain and demonstrate a spell or a curse she found in books. In truth, Bellatrix had hundreds of questions that sprouted from curses and spells she read in Dark Arts books, but after a month of trial-and-error, she realised Harry had a … dislike in performing many Dark curses in short span. It was hard for her to understand this when it was absolute bliss to use Dark magic. Nowadays, she would feign that she 'accidentally' found an interesting magic and inquire Harry about it. Not too often, though. Bellatrix tried to make it seem as spontaneous as possible.

"We have been dueling for the past weeks," she pointed out, slightly confused.

"No, that wasn't dueling. It was —" Harry paused. "Well, yes, it was dueling in a way, but it was more like a battle on a small scale.

"What's the difference?"

Harry gazed at her with a patient and expectant face. Her mind turned over the characteristics of dueling.

"There wasn't … any formal vow when we were dueling," Bellatrix said with realisation.

Harry smiled. "Yes. Formal dueling involves the magic binding the participants to fulfill their vows and promises made to each other."

"We're going to actually incorporate dueling magic this time?" Bellatrix breathed with awed expression.

"Yes, that is, if you want to." Harry shrugged. "I knew a month of studying theories and historical incidents would bore you. Even the practices with dummies weren't enough to satisfy you."

"Right you are," Bellatrix growled. Harry laughed.

The way to the practice room was gloomy. Even conversations with Harry couldn't lighten this hallway. Bellatrix was used to the grim portraits and frames on the wall eyeing those whoever walked past them. Typical Black eyes, cold and grey, would follow her, making the hair on the back of her neck rise, until she turned around the corner, only to feel more watchful eyes on her. Not even casual, warm greetings would come out of their mouths.

The curtains were drawn shut, the bright summer light finding them impenetrable. There had been days, long forgotten days, when she had resented, even been frightened of, the darkness of the manor. Now she regarded it with respect, even with pride. It gave her a sense of superiority, that the Blacks weren't common like plebeian families. Even other pureblood families were ordinary and low, compared to the Ancient and Noble Blacks.

They turned around the corner, only to see someone walk down the hallway before them. Bellatrix briefly wondered if it was Sirius or Regulus. Both had sleek black hair gliding down the nape. With Regulus having an early growth spurt, he was only an inch shorter than Sirius, leaving the height difference no longer an indicator to distinguish them from behind.

But after studying the stride and composure, Bellatrix concluded it was Regulus. Regulus' strides were not as boastful and haughty like those of Sirius — regardless of his 'black sheep' status, Sirius walked like a perfect Black — but rather seemed wearier with each step he took. Regulus walked as if walking was a movement that required conscious concentration, with his head slightly bent down as though he had to make sure he was walking like a proper pureblood. Seeing the bony shoulders of the boy hunched over stirred a complicated emotion in Bellatrix.

Bellatrix had adored Regulus in her own way. She had known how distressed Regulus was under his brother's shadow. She had tried to convince Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion that Sirius was a lost cause, a shame of purebloods, and that Regulus was the one worthy of upholding the name of Black. It hadn't worked. Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion remained unconvinced and their deadly determination to convert Sirius was strong as ever.

"Where is he going?" She muttered worriedly under her breath.

"He's probably going outside to collect some potions ingredients," Harry said. "There were so much dittany in the garden behind the manor when Regulus showed me around yesterday, just begging to be used in potions."

Bellatrix shook her head. Sometimes Harry was such a Ravenclaw. She then eyed Regulus as he walked away from their sight. She hoped there wouldn't be anything fatally poisonous in the garden.

"Grandfather Pollux has a thing for gardens. He's more reserved than Grandmother Irma. She's the one actively participating in family matters and politics." Bellatrix left the term 'meddling' unsaid.

Bellatrix looked around to see if there was any portrait of Irma. "I mean, no disrespect, but having a wife like her, you have to have a garden to plant away your stress." She needed a garden the size of Hogwarts grounds of her own to plant away her own stress caused by her family. Even that wouldn't be enough.

Harry suppressed a laugh which came out as a snicker.

"I admire his choice of planting herbs with magical properties," he remarked, changing the direction of the conversation.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "It wasn't any kind of venerable wisdom or skill. He just had an armful of random seeds and seedlings in his arms and tossed them around the garden."

Harry blinked. "Oh."

Bellatrix shrugged. "He did say that he noticed many plants that 'survived' were those with magical properties."

When they reached the room, avoiding the previous topic, Harry murmured some protective charms on the walls, floor, furniture, and other delicate ornaments in the room.

Harry noticed Bellatrix's amused face. "Er, I don't want Arcturus or Irma to hex me by destroying these." He gestured the whole room. Bellatrix doubted any Head of the Blacks would actually do that. They valued Harry too much to do anything that would alienate him.

Harry swished his wand, drawing the curtains apart and opening several windows. It was middle of July. The breeze was a bit humid, but it was refreshing to the usually cool, dry ambiance of the Black Manor. They didn't open the windows very often. Her parents — in fact, all the Blacks — liked to admire the view of the garden or comment on the delicate design of gilded frames, panes, or curtains, but never open them. From time to time, Sirius would try to barge in and unfasten some windows to test whatever ridiculous tricks he had, but he would eventually back down from their silent, reproachful gazes.

She liked the closure, the sense of security and isolation. But here was Harry, opening the long-closed windows of the Black Manor. And oddly, Bellatrix didn't mind the change Harry had unintentionally brought with him.

The warm, gentle wind fluttered through the chilled room. Soon, she was enveloped by the breeze. Bellatrix closed her eyes. Yes, it was a bit foreign feeling, different from the usual, but the change was pleasant.

She opened her eyes to stare at Harry, surprised to find the man also enjoying the summer breeze. Bellatrix inspected Harry closely in silence. He was staring off into space or perhaps the scene beyond the window. His eyebrows were mildly furrowed, an expression Bellatrix recognised from their lessons during which he employed whenever Bellatrix asked a question he couldn't immediately answer.

Then Bellatrix noticed something she hadn't seen before. Going back through her memories of Harry, she realised Harry always covered his forehead with his bangs. But now, with the wind blowing on his face, the usual bangs were brushed off, revealing a peculiar scar on his forehead. She squinted. It almost looked like a … lightning bolt.

Harry turned around and met Bellatrix's curious gaze. She almost flinched in surprise as Harry slightly stiffened, his face closing off, devoid of any expression. He hastily brushed his messy bangs down on his forehead, effectively covering the scar.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't like people staring at it."

Bellatrix tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible.

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Harry silently cast Soft-Cushioning charms on the floor and on the walls. Bellatrix tried not to fidget like some fool and stood upright like a proper pureblood.

"So, other than the duel magic, there isn't much difference between a duel and a battle, right?" Bellatrix asked, attempting to break the awkwardness. The best way to do that was to ask a question. "Then why would people even bother to duel? They can just battle and win over the other to force whatever they want."

"I believe you just answered your own question," said Harry with a small smile.

Bellatrix blinked. "What?"

"You can just sneak up on people and cast Avada Kedavra if they're better off dead for your cause. You can cast Imperious or even Cruciatus to force someone into submission. Then why would people duel, some drawing runes, swearing vows, or stating terms _—_ why would people go through that bother?"

Harry knelt down on the floor and started to draw rune lines on the floor. He noticed Bellatrix' gaze and raised his eyebrow. "Don't worry. It can be erased after the duel. Irma or Arcturus won't yell at us for staining the marble floor."

Bellatrix snorted. As if she would worry about that.

Her eyes followed the complicated pattern appearing under Harry's hand. She replayed the conversation in her head. Why duel… Why not simple way… Why…

Bellatrix's eyes widened as her mind clicked.

"It's about honor," she breathed.

"Yes." Harry nodded. "In a duel, you face the opponent in an equal ground. No sneaking up, no trap, just fair ground. You may oppose them to the extent that you are dueling with them, but you respect them enough to hear their conditions."

"The Order and the Death Eaters don't fight in duels that much," Bellatrix mused.

Harry sighed as he stood up. "Honor has many virtues but efficiency is not one of them. In a war, the goal is not to respect your enemies or honor them, but to kill as many as you can and dominate over the others."

"I guess it's too much to ask the Dark Lord and Dumbledore to hold their hands together and march off to duel."

Harry gave a half smile that looked like a frown. "That would save many, many lives, but we all know both of them are unwilling to face each other yet. Both are the scheming sorts. And the war is not something fought by only those two, despite the fact that they're the most influential figures."

Bellatrix had an odd feeling when Harry said that. Somehow it didn't sound like comments from someone who had been staying in a foreign county for years, only to come back recently. It seemed the sentiment came more from personal experience than from reading newspaper. How odd. She lightly shook her head to dismiss the notion, though she filed away the doubtful thought to pick at later.

Harry ran his hand through his hair as he stared down at the floor to inspect the runes. Bellatrix cocked her head, discerning the pattern, which was awfully familiar to her. She recognized it from the books she read. It was the most frequently used Duel style. Sun-like pattern extended its flaring tendrils.

She watched as Harry strode to the other side of the rune where the fiery lines from the center sun-like pattern extended. Then Bellatrix stood on the opposite side of Harry where the lines extended the longest.

"Remember the steps?" Harry asked as he stepped to the right, gliding his feet along the floor.

"Yeah." Bellatrix reflected Harry's movements in the opposite direction. With her right foot tilted in front of her left foot, she bowed, bending her knees and spreading her right arm. Repeating her motion, Harry glided to the side, slowly twirling along the way. Soon, they were stepping along the inner circular line of the rune, circling, getting closer to one another. Bellatrix kept her gaze on Harry's unflinching green eyes. She tried to keep her pace steady as the tension grew. Or perhaps it was the magic slowly entwining them.

Now they were only arm's length apart. The tension grew heavier as their knees lightly brushed against another like feather.

"It seems like dancing," Bellatrix commented, attempting to ease the tension. She swallowed thickly.

"It does, doesn't it?" Harry smiled, clearly amused.

Bellatrix held her breath as she slightly turned away from Harry, yet her head facing toward Harry. She raised her hand, her palm meeting Harry's in midair.

Bellatrix slightly gasped at the warmth of the other's hand. She could feel the pulse of Harry's heart through his hand, steady and calm. A human being's heartbeat. Bellatrix almost forgot to take the next set of steps. Her legs felt like jelly as if Harry cast a nonverbal Jelly-legs jinx.

"This is why this style was most often used," Harry said, startling Bellatrix out of her dazed state. "It reminds the opponents of the duel that they are dueling with a human being, not some kind of a monster that has to be vanquished; a human being who has emotional and social ties to this world and how your spell or curse in the duel could easily destroy the other's life. The touching of hands _—_ " he pressed his hand firmly on Bellatrix's. Her fingers spread under the slight pressure, allowing Harry's fingers between them. Her pulse raced. "— is the key component of this form of duel. It brings out our humane sides, second thoughts, and possible regrets regarding the duel. It gives us an opportunity to think over our decision, to back down from the duel, to reconcile with one another in other forms besides dueling."

Well, it didn't have the desired effect on Bellatrix. Her only doubt, no regret, was holding Harry's hand which had an undesirable effect on her. She bit her lip. Bellatrix furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, determined not to get lost in Harry's calm voice echoing the room.

"Should you have an ounce of doubt whether you should duel with someone, be it the motive, the opponent, or anything, I strongly suggest this duel. By doing it, you are implying that you are considering reconciliation and you may end up with negotiation, instead of duel wounds."

"But wouldn't that be revealing a weakness?" Bellatrix asked in confusion.

"How so?"

"You are indirectly saying you have weak resolve to defeat the opponent and that you don't want to fight the person wholeheartedly. The opponent will recognize your disposition to reconcile, or rather, weakness in mind and determination. It's more likely that the other person will use that against you," Bellatrix said with fervor.

Having weak resolve, being unable to hurt someone in a duel, was even worse than having weak magic. It was like having a blunt, wood sword against an opponent with a sharp blade. Or having a plain, wooden non-magical stick against Aurors with Unforgivables on the tips of their tongues. Why would anyone reveal such trace of doubt in front of an enemy?

Harry opened his mouth but closed again. "I never thought of it that way. I always considered it as a short cut to reconciliation or peaceful negotiation. But you are also right." Harry inclined his head in deep thought.

It was only when Harry shifted to the right that Bellatrix realised they stopped treading along the rune lines for quite a while. Harry withdrew his hand and stepped back. Following the same, Bellatrix reached her wand, suppressing a disappointed sigh that threatened to escape. She looked up to see Harry appraising her.

"Regardless of whatever duel format, I want you to remember," his emerald eyes fixed on hers, "that the person on the end of your wand is the same human being as you, holding the other end of you wand. Never forget you are also a human being."

Harry lowered his voice. "Now, let's state the terms."

They both brought their wands up to their faces and bowed.

"The one who wins gets to ask a question. Whatever the question may be, the other has to answer it truthfully. What do you think?"

"That's too simple," Bellatrix protested. She was considering making Harry help her with all the Dark Arts she would come across without judging her. Asking one question? She inwardly shook her head.

"Not if it's a question that you are reluctant to ask in every day situation," said Harry with all the seriousness.

At Harry's comment, Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, her mind stretching in different directions.

Should she ask him where he lived? No, it made her sound like a stalker. Besides, it wasn't a big deal. Harry did mention once that he lived somewhere near or in Hogsmeade. Why he came back to Britain? Wait, did Harry say the reason already before? It might have been something related to family business or academics. Where he worked?

Bellatrix tilted her head. Other than coming to the manor to tutor them, what actual occupation did Harry have? What did he _do_ when he wasn't at Black manor? Didn't Harry once mention that he might try out for a part-time job at Hogwarts? Or was it just Bellatrix' wishful thinking?

She mentally paused. Other than general personalities and academic intelligence, the Blacks didn't know about Harry that much. Not about his personal life. It wouldn't be appropriate to question him about it.

But…

Her mind drifted as her eyes wandered from Harry's toes to his head. His face. His forehead always thoroughly covered with his bangs. The peculiar scar. Even more peculiar reaction of Harry.

Somehow the question about the scar seemed more intimate and more private than all the other questions that she came up with Harry's personal life. Nevertheless, this wasn't a simple question-and-answer time.

Bellatrix contemplated for a moment and nodded. Did she really want to ask Harry that question and risk the relationship they had?

_Yes_.

"Do you agree to the term, Bellatrix Black?"

Bellatrix could feel the magic purr against her ear, waiting to swallow the duelers with its power. She took a deep breath. She had to mean it for the magic to take effect.

"I agree," Bellatrix said with all the sincerity she could muster.

Then Bellatrix felt the duel magic settle around them. It enveloped her like a second cloak on her skin.

"Tell me how you got that scar on your forehead." There. She said it. Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh. She expected a more dramatic reaction from Harry when she asked that, but Harry only paused for a fleeting second before collecting himself.

"I will state my question after the duel."

"What?" she exclaimed. "That's not fair!"

"It is." Harry quirked an eyebrow. "It's never safe to ask a question to an enemy. By asking a question about something, you're already giving away that you now some things about it. Always choose your words wisely if you have to interrogate."

Bellatrix gritted her teeth at Harry's response. "I demand you state your question before the duel. As you emphasized, the whole point of a duel is to provide equal chance to all the participants. Your refusal to state the question will not motivate me to the same extent as my question might motivate you to win."

Harry sighed. "Okay, fine with me." He cleared his throat.

Bellatrix found herself both anticipating and dreading the question Harry will ask.

Harry's vivid green eyes met hers. "Tell me why you are so disposed to cast Dark magic," Harry said in a low voice.

Bellatrix froze in shock, the magic gliding through the air like a serpent, binding both of them.

She let out a shuddering breath and stepped away. Her footsteps rang out forebodingly. Maybe it was because Bellatrix didn't have an exact answer to Harry's question. Maybe it was because, she did have an answer but she did not want to reveal it.

Now standing few feet away from Harry, she realised she was going to actually duel him. She felt a brief surge of panic course through her but anticipation outweighed it.

Being a skilled duelist, Harry would cast advanced spells and curses unfamiliar to Bellatrix. What strategy should she use? Which spells? Which curses? She quickly went over the curses she knew, most of them Dark magic. But Harry would be able to block them. How should she defend herself from Harry's magic? He had the upper hand, having had more experience in dueling and magic. How can she shield the obscure spells Harry would use?

Her breath hitched.

Contego.

Yes, the Contego shield would be more than adequate for blocking most of the curses Harry would use. It should give her more leeway to attack Harry, albeit it would drain her faster.

Bellatrix lifted her wand arm, positioning herself in a dueling posture. Harry did the same. She felt a rush of magic sweep through her, signaling the start of the duel.

Bellatrix opened her mouth and whispered, _"Contego!"_

* * *

><p>Bellatrix wiped her forehead, panting harshly. Even though she was physically exhausted from the duel, her mind was as lively as ever. She was exhilarated at the challenge before her. This man was a challenge. Also someone to challenge her limits, to prompt her to push beyond her capacity. There was no need to hold back.<p>

Contego was withstanding most of Harry's curses. But Bellatrix couldn't help but suspect Harry not firing random attacks but deliberately sending some curses to figure out which shield spell she was using.

She hastily ducked as a nasty, crackling red spark headed her way. Instinctively, she fired a counterattack. Only when the curse left the tip of her wand did she realize it was a Dark curse. The Blood-Boiling curse. Bellatrix gasped and held her breath as the familiar feeling of dark magic made her involuntarily shiver. The ecstasy was short lived. Bellatrix felt her stomach clench with dread as she watched Harry narrowly dodge the lethal curse. She swallowed thickly, feeling her wand hand tremble.

Harry stared at her with unreadable expression, his green eyes flaring with something Bellatrix couldn't discern.

Her mouth tasted bitter and suddenly she didn't know what to do. She didn't mind casting such curses on dummies or animals. This was the first time she ever cast dark magic on human. The frenzy was much more intense but, but _—_

Casting on Harry? What was she thinking? It was near instinct, almost like a reflex, but this _—_

Her mind was frantic, uncertain of the next move. The duel was momentarily forgotten. What was she supposed to do? Say sorry? Or _—_

_"Aguamenti maxima!"_

Bellatrix spluttered as a bucket of water splashed on her face. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the water out of her eyes. She yelped in surprise as she felt a stinging hex hit her feet. Bellatrix still couldn't see clearly because of all that blasted water, but she could see Harry drawing closer. She struggled to say the incantation – and she fell down right on her arse by a trip jinx. Bellatrix felt her wand slip out of her hand and the magic shift as it proclaimed Harry the winner.

"_Finite Incantatem."_

She gasped for breath, grasping Harry's offered hand. Harry pulled her up and returned her wand, and Bellatrix immediately dried herself.

"What was that?" she asked incredulously.

"What was what?"

"How did your spells get through the Contego shield?" she demanded. Contego was supposed to be one of the most powerful shields. What good would it do if it could barely withstand minor jinxes and household charms?

"I realised my spells couldn't get past your shield and threw some spells to see which one you were using. Indeed, it blocked out powerful spells and curses, but one flaw of Contego shield is that it has a threshold."

"What?" Bellatrix exclaimed, completely bemused.

Harry started to explain in a tutor manner. "It can only deflect curses or spells that are higher than a certain intensity. Jinxes and mild hexes are not as powerful as the ones Contego can shield, so they can get past it." Harry smirked. But then his face turned grim. He shifted to fully face her.

"I believe it's time to get my answer, Bellatrix," Harry said softly.

Bellatrix clenched her jaw. What was she to say?

The truth. Bellatrix cringed.

She felt the duel magic force out the truth she wasn't even aware of.

"I have some … trouble with controlling my anger. Casting Dark magic helps me calm down," she said with difficulty. Bellatrix couldn't help but avert her eyes and touch her wand.

"That's one of many reasons why people become addicted to Dark magic."

"I'm not addicted to it!" Bellatrix snapped, although she heard a doubtful voice asking, _what if you are?_

Harry silently assessed her with his unreadable expression again.

She felt the magic pressure her. Bellatrix swallowed thickly. No, she didn't want to say that. It wasn't even true. Bellatrix clenched her eyes shut. Her breath quickened as she tried to resist the magic. No, she wouldn't admit it. She already gave an answer, which was surely enough. The magic wouldn't make her say it if she didn't think it was true. _No!_

There was blinding pain all over her mind, but somehow she couldn't express it. Her face remained blank whereas her mind was in chaotic agony.

Bellatrix suddenly wanted to cry.

"Sirius isn't good at it," Bellatrix let out between her clenched teeth. She said it.

But the magic wasn't satisfied. It pushed.

"He's always good at everything. His level of magic is supposed to be below me since he's younger! Whenever I perform advanced magic, Sirius would do the same spell but better," Bellatrix spat. "In every area of magic he would exceed except the Dark Arts. He doesn't have the will and the power to cast Dark magic. Dark magic is the only magic that I can do better than him. I can prove myself when I'm casting Dark magic. I don't have Sirius Black to overshadow me in Dark Arts." She finished with ragged breathing. Only then, did she realize with a start that she was shouting. Bellatrix pursed her lips in apprehension. She stared at the floor, refusing to see what Harry's expression was.

"And it's powerful," said Bellatrix matter-of-factly, collecting herself.

Harry was quiet for a while. Bellatrix kept staring at the floor.

He cleared his throat. "It's not about pure power. In a duel, it's about how well you use your surroundings and how to defeat your enemy without consuming your power too much."

Harry started to repair his partially scorched robe. "Don't let power be everything to you," Harry said without looking up at her. "I knew a man who did. He wasn't a pretty sight to look at." He chuckled dryly without amusement.

Harry cast a Tempus charm and swore under his breath. "I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but I have to go." He smiled apologetically. "Think about what I said, alright?"

Bellatrix nodded numbly.

"And _—"_ Harry paused. "And I'll think about what you said."

Deep down, she really didn't want him to think about it.

* * *

><p>"Potter, if you keep boasting about your skills in the Animagus transformation, I'll make you regret giving this mirror to me," Sirius half-growled in irritation, clutching the mirror not so gently.<p>

Sirius had known what his Animagus form was before James did. And he started practicing sooner than James. But here was James, showing off his stability in partially maintaining the transformation, whereas Sirius kept having dog hair mixed with his human hair.

James merely scoffed, unimpressed at Sirius' threat.

There were some shuffling sounds at the other side of the mirror, and James popped his head into the view.

"See, see?" James grinned like an utter fool. "Look at my antlers, Padfoot!" James exclaimed.

"Oh sod off," Sirius grumbled. "How come I can't even manage my paws when you're sprouting antlers?"

"Well … the Animagus transformation book did say you need peace of mind in order to transform successfully." James shrunk back the antlers into his stupid sodding head. "And since peace of mind is the least thing you can afford considering where you are … maybe that's why you're having trouble." James eyed him carefully. "How are you? No major arguments yet? No breaking expensive _—"_

"No. Not yet." Sirius sighed.

Sirius knew James purposefully acted carefree and especially more mischievous when Sirius was back at the Black Manor to cheer him up. He appreciated James' attempt to distract him.

James looked down at his watch.

"Is it time for that git?"

"Yeah," Sirius said in misery.

Sirius flinched as the ward on the door alerted him of someone in front of his door. Sirius quickly whispered, "Talk to you later, Prongs," and the door opened. It was Carrow.

"Who were you talking to?"

He composed his features. "Nothing. No one," he said, surreptitiously hiding the mirror in his pocket.

"Hm. Thought you were going barmy for a moment," said the ponce, smirking in a knowing way that unnerved Sirius greatly. The git stopped on the doorway, swishing his wand. Sirius grimaced as the invisible dung bomb he had put appeared on the chair the git always sat on in Sirius' room.

Damn, how did he know that? He had spent hours searching for the right spells to make it invisible. He even thought of asking James to lend him his invisibility cloak, though James shot him a dirty glare when he mentioned he was going to hide a dung bomb, saying he didn't want to have feces on his precious heirloom.

"You would have much better luck next time if you don't stare at the chair and me so intently, having 'Merlin, he has to sit on that chair where I put something nasty that will make him scream like a girl' expression on your face," he said nonchalantly, smirking at Sirius. The git levitated the bomb and threw it out the window.

An ear-splitting shriek came from outside, right below Sirius' window. It was Bellatrix. Oh shit.

"Sirius Orion Black, I'm going to hex your balls off and shove them up your nostrils!" Bellatrix screeched. Sirius winced. He really needed to go to the Potters. Bellatrix meant it when she was screaming like that.

He glared at the man. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he scowled. The man stared back at Sirius with a too-innocent look on his face.

The ponce twirled his wrist, transfiguring a quill on his desk into a small wooden dog. Sirius felt himself involuntarily stiffen at the dog shape. The git may see through Sirius' prank but really, he couldn't know about his Animagus form, could he? Sirius had to shift nervously under Carrow's intent gaze. He was about to ask why he transfigured it to specifically a dog when there was a ferocious pounding on his bedroom door, shaking the door frame.

"OPEN THIS DOOR OR I'LL CUT OFF YOUR – "

Sirius grimaced, casting a protective charm on his crotch. Really, life had been much more peaceful before the git came into his life. And he wouldn't have had to protect his crotch without the git.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After their initial dueling a week ago, Bellatrix and Harry fell into a regular routine of practicing spells and defense, against transfigured targets or on each other.

"You've cast Dark magic again," Harry pointed out quietly. Bellatrix didn't miss the reprimanding tone between the lines.

"Why are you treating Dark magic like sinful atrocity?" Bellatrix demanded.

Harry sighed. "Because it is. There is a reason why it's Dark, Bellatrix. I'm not saying this out of blind prejudice. No matter the consequence, the intention and the mechanism behind the Dark magic cannot be benign."

"That doesn't matter, though. Dark magic is powerful enough to do so many great things. Can't the end justify the means? Is it so wrong to desire to be powerful? Is it so wrong to despise the weak?" Bellatrix protested.

"No." Harry avoided her gaze. "I can't and won't judge someone else's views." Harry tiredly ran his hands over his face. "It's just – " he faltered. "Try not to despise the weak. Not everyone is born with equal power or level of power one wishes. There is no strength if there is no weakness to compare to."

Oh, Bellatrix knew that much. "But one can try," she insisted. That was the guiding principle in her life. She could at least try. "Even if you're not born with it, you can harness what you are given and become something greater. That's the difference between the powerful and the weak. Those who try and those who don't even dare to try out of fear."

Harry turned his head to face her. His resolute eyes already told him he did not agree with her rationale.

"Not everyone who attempts to be powerful resorts to Dark magic. I dare say Dark magic is used by people who want to achieve power in a short time, without putting in much effort. I would go further, and say Dark magic has no power, but only hatred."

That stung. It seemed as if Harry was accusing her for not having the resolve to even try. Bellatrix tried to ignore the pang in her chest.

Harry stood up. "That is all for today." He turned to leave, but stopped midway to face her.

"You once told me you cast Dark magic because that is the only magic you are better at than Sirius."

Bellatrix remained silent, not knowing where this was leading.

"What are you trying to achieve, Bellatrix? Is it the recognition from others that you are superior to Sirius? Or is it pure power? What is your intent that fuels the Dark magic? What is your anger aimed towards?"

She hesitantly lifted her head to stare at Harry's face, expecting to find disappointment and rejection, but surprised to find none, only gentle worry.

"I don't want to judge you for what you believe in, Bellatrix. Yes, I disagree with some of your reasons. But mostly I'm worried where this train of thought in your mind will lead you to." He took her hands and held them in a firm grasp. His hands felt warm in stark contrast to her cold pale hands. "I can't stand the thought of you left broken by the influence of Dark magic. Insane, or worse. Are you willing to have your dignity, your pride, your honor, and — yourself taken away?"

"I won't, though," said Bellatrix fiercely. She wasn't one of those weaklings losing themselves in the Dark Arts. She would own them and wield them, but they would not own her.

"Dark Arts is unyielding. It does not simply grant your wishes, Bellatrix. It is not a gentle, benevolent master. Dark Arts will consume your energy and life source the more you use it.

"If power is what you want, I can help you. I _have_ been helping you with this tutoring. I can help you become powerful without depending on Dark magic. If it's something else, _tell _me so I can help you," said Harry with fervor, his eyes bright with determination, willingness to help her, and hope – hope that she would take his hand, hope she would let him help her.

"I always wanted to beat Sirius. And become powerful. That's my goal, to be better than Sirius, to be powerful than anyone else, to become the best duelist —"

She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop, not with Harry's eyes shimmering with encouragement and openness – eyes that promised understanding.

After that? Then what?

What was she trying to achieve?

"Power can't be the end. It can be the means, but once it becomes the end … you'll — you'll lose yourself, Bellatrix."

He sounded so scared … That look of open fear, not fear of her but fear for her sake …

It was endearing.

Harry gave her hands a final, tender squeeze and released them.

"I'm sorry if I sounded forceful. I just — I don't want to lose you."

Bellatrix sat down on the chair and absent-mindedly twirled her wand between her hands.

_I don't … I don't want to lose you_.

His words echoed in her mind.

Neither did she.

* * *

><p>Andromeda opened the letter and read it again for the umpteenth time ever since she came back home.<p>

…_Since I can't write any letters to you over the summer, I am trying to fit in all the words I want to say to you, but of course it's impossible. And you always make me very spontaneous anyways so even if I try to predict what I will want to say during the summer, it would always be different every time I see you. Now I'm rambling, aren't I? I always get sidetracked when I'm talking/writing to you. I only hope to have the same effect on you, but you're always calm and collected. Tsk. Maybe I'll try to make you blush next year. You can imagine me reading love poems and stories and listening to love songs over the summer trying to learn from the masters of love on the art of wooing. _

_I'll miss you._

_Love,_

_Ted. _

Andromeda would always compose a letter in her mind, beginning with _Dear Ted … _

But she never dared put her words to paper, fearing her family would find out about Ted. It was almost two months since she had last seen him. She thought of disguising Ted as a pureblood wizard but only a few questions would reveal Ted's muggleborn status. There were far too many unsent letters in her mind and memories – she would only hope to remember all of them in time for her reunion with Ted once the school started.

"Ah, young love," a voice remarked from behind.

She yelped in surprise as she frantically hid the letter under her books. Her heart thumped madly against her chest as she turned on her heels with her wand raised, the Obliviate Charm on the tip of her tongue. Then she sagged in relief when she saw it was Harry, flashing a knowing smirk on his face.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on her chest. "You scared the wits out of me," she said, glaring.

Harry closed the door behind him. "I take it by your reaction that your family doesn't know about this … involvement, then?" asked Harry.

Andromeda shifted her feet nervously.

"No. I don't think I can ever tell them," she said in a quiet voice.

"And why is that?" Harry regarded her with genuine curiosity.

"I – " she hesitated. Andromeda nibbled her lip. "Harry, are you a pureblood?"

Her mental voice berated her stupidity. _Of course he's a pureblood. He's a Carrow, for Merlin's sake!_

Harry snorted. "Does it matter?" he asked. He gave her a disapproving glance.

"No!" she said hastily, waving her hands. Harry thinking she was a pureblood extremist was the last thing she had in mind.

She appraised Harry with careful eyes. Two weeks ago when Harry had asked her about her "involvement," she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Sure, she thought Harry was a good tutor, a good person — but not too sure of his view on blood. She knew he wasn't an extremist, but one never knew.

But now, having observed him for a month now, picking up some of his remarks regarding her relatives' view, perhaps … she could trust him enough to divulge this.

"It's not that. It's just –" she paused. Andromeda looked around to check no one was eavesdropping despite the closed door and lowered her voice. "He's a muggleborn," she whispered.

"So?" he asked in a bemused tone.

Andromeda blinked. "Wait, what?"

"What?"

"You're not going to bemoan about how could I, a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Blacks, date a _mudblood_?" she said dramatically, draping her palm over her forehead, all the while bracing herself for the imminent judgment.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Andromeda, how could you?" he said in an overly stern voice. "Or worse, you'll be telling me you're dating a Hufflepuff!"

Andromeda sniffed. "He is." She still waited for the pureblood bomb to drop.

Harry gaped, and then collapsed onto his seat with a crestfallen groan. "Merlin. You've done it. You're dating a Hufflepuff. _How could you_?" he moaned.

She looked at him in utter bafflement. "That's it?"

He returned her gaze oddly.

_What was this reaction?_ she thought, bewildered. What in the bloody hell?

"You know my family is going to disown me when they figure out I'm dating a muggleborn to say the least," Andromeda said slowly.

"Well … that is neither here nor there."

"You're a Carrow," she said slowly.

"You're a Black," said Harry equally slowly. Then his face paled. "Oh no, I'm not going to marry you to be your fake husband while you date him."

"No!" Andromeda cried. "I wasn't implying that _at all_!" she said quickly.

Harry sagged in relief. "Whew. Okay."

"But — but, you're a Carrow. You're a pureblood! Aren't you at all surprised or disgusted or disapproving of this thing?"

He arched his eyebrow. "I mean, I am surprised you're dating a Hufflepuff." He shook his head. "A Hufflepuff," he muttered under his breath.

She gaped at him. "That's the part that bothers you? Him being a Hufflepuff? Not him being a muggleborn?"

Mischievous gleam in Harry's eyes faded. His gaze softened. "Oh, Andromeda. I don't care if he's a muggleborn or half-blood or pureblood. I've had friends who date muggleborns." He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry for being insensitive. Of course you're worried that your family will disapprove when they find out. But as I said just now, that's neither here nor there. So you shouldn't let your spirits down for something that hasn't occurred yet," he said gently.

To her shock, she felt her eyes tingle and Harry became a bit blurry. She sniffed and tried to collect herself.

"And I'm sure not all of your family would disapprove," said Harry with kind eyes.

"Yeah. Sirius knows," Andromeda grumbled.

She pursed her lips and let out a shuddering sigh.

"It's just … I'm so _scared_. If Sirius is getting so much _shit_ just for befriending muggleborns, imagine what they'll do to me when they find out I'm dating one."

"It'll be alright."

For once, she believed him.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Tell me about him?" Harry asked lightly, breaking the silence.

"What do you want to know? He's a muggleborn to start with. And that's the main problem."

"Are you sure?" Harry said slowly. "He's a Hufflepuff to start with. He might be a snorer. And he might pick his nose. That might be a bit of a problem. Maybe he has bad breath."

"He doesn't!" Andromeda bristled.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Okay."

Andromeda flushed.

Realisation dawned on Harry's face. "So that was why you asked me if there was another way to communicate without using owls."

"Yeah." Andromeda nodded.

"Hmm. We can review the Dark Creatures for NEWTs for today. And I'll look into Charms books that can give us few ideas on distant communication."

Andromeda brightened.

Throughout the session, Andromeda tried hard to stay focused on grindylows and werewolves and other magical creatures she learned when her mind kept straying on the possibilities of Charms application and replaying the conversation they just had.

She stared at the door Harry had exited with an ineffable emotion pooling in her heart.

This was … not the way Andromeda imagined her long-kept secret to be revealed to someone other than her trusted friends. This was not the reaction she was anticipating with unease. Harry was treating the whole matter as a plain teenage love, not some political, ideological, cultural conflict between the purebloods and muggleborns.

Her feelings towards Ted now seemed … innocuous and normal. Oh she knew this feeling of normalcy would be short-lived once she thought about telling her parents. But that was, as Harry said, neither here nor there. This rare feeling was precious and she would cherish it as long as it lasted.

* * *

><p>There was a knock on Regulus' door. Regulus put down the Owl Delivery catalogue he was browsing through to keep an eye out for some ointment for the wounded snidget he had found the other day. He trusted Kreacher to take care of all the animals Regulus had found in the forest, but Regulus wanted to make sure there were enough snacks and medical supplies.<p>

Ever since the Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley, Aunt Lucretia insisted that none of the younger Blacks go to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade alone, so Regulus was left with very few choices including the Owl Delivery.

Regulus stood up and reached for the door, and found Harry standing on his doorway with a broomstick in his hand grinning mischievously. "Are you busy?"

"No?" Regulus answered, baffled.

Harry's eyes had lit up behind the spectacles. "Great! Up for a Seeker's game?"

"Sure."

Regulus stared at Harry's back who was striding ahead of him with jubilant steps. Regulus thought he could hear low humming coming from Harry.

Although excited, Regulus inwardly groaned as he predicted another defeat against Harry. Regulus reached for his gloves and left the room with Harry, heading towards the closet.

It was incredible how Harry picked up such small details in his room. One day, Harry had seen a pair of Quidditch gloves on the unnoticeable corner of his book shelf and asked if he still practiced Quidditch during the summer. His immediate reply had come out as a no, for he had been a bit uneasy practicing in the field behind the manor. His parents – or rather, the whole Black family were disdainful of him playing Quidditch. Grandmother Irma once expressed her contempt for Quidditch: "Ungraceful, vulgar, and unsuitable for purebloods," she had muttered with a disparaging tsk. It provided his family some comfort knowing Regulus was a Seeker, "agile" and "noteworthy." Regulus still had winced every time he had encountered his relatives after his rare moments of Quidditch practice. Their clucking of tongues and whispered disapproval hadn't been encouraging for him. The summer after his second year was the first and the last time Regulus practiced Quidditch at the Manor in summer.

But Harry had somehow gotten a permission to play Quidditch behind the manor from the Blacks. Aunt Lucretia told Regulus that she had seen Harry waltz into the patio where Grandmother Irma and Grandfather Pollux and Arcturus were having a tea, with a box of desserts. Aunt Lucretia said she could swear the three's faces twitched in barely constrained delight when Harry opened the luxuriously wrapped box to reveal pieces of absolutely delicious-looking cauldron cakes and treacle tart. It was a well-known secret among the Blacks that Grandfather Pollux and Arcturus both relished cauldron cakes and Grandmother Irma loved treacle tart. Aunt Lucretia thought it was hilarious for someone as acrid as Irma to enjoy eating something dripping with sugar.

The conversation had started from politics as far as Aunt Lucretia knew – she couldn't stay for the whole time. But when she returned to the patio, the four of them were talking about Quidditch. How they ended up talking about that particular subject, Aunt Lucretia didn't know. In the end Pollux, Arcturus, and Irma told Harry he could fly behind the Manor if he wished to along with Regulus.

"Come on, Regulus! You should be faster than this old soul!" shouted Harry, darting toward the field with barks of laughter.

Regulus felt a smile slip onto his face, feeling utter happiness bubble in his chest. He mounted onto his broom and shot forward, laughter escaping him as he saw Harry's shocked face as he passed him easily. Hearing Harry's distant cry of "Not fair!" Regulus flew up higher and higher, throwing off all the restraints, all the pressure, all the frustration – just everything. It felt like an eternity and for a moment, Regulus thought he could escape.

The air temperature slightly declined due to the height. The change somehow felt like an icy bucket of water on his face. Regulus slowed down and let his broom hover in the air.

He took in the sight below and ahead of him. The Black Manor stood proud, even tad bit menacing, on the vast green field. It seemed dark and gloomy despite all the sunshine reaching it. As much as Grimmauld Place in London was his home, the Black Manor, where he would spend most of his summers with his relatives, was also his home. The forest around the field was what Regulus liked the most. It wasn't dangerous like Forbidden Forest, but the sheer size of it was comparable to the forest around Hogwarts.

Regulus closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, the scent of aged, evergreen forest behind the manor filling his lungs. It was nice to get away from the city. Then Regulus caught a whiff of something else – something soothing, something familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar.

"That was very clever."

Harry was on his broom not far away from Regulus with his arms crossed, giving Regulus a pointed look. Harry looked at ease on the broom.

"Not really." Regulus shrugged, slight grin tugging the corner of his lips.

Harry smiled knowingly, but soon he frowned. "Is something on your mind?" Harry inquired, his eyes searching Regulus' face. Regulus felt his heart clench at Harry's genuine look of concern.

Regulus didn't know what to say. Was something on his mind? Yes. There were far too many things on his mind, entangled in a chaotic mess. But one thing Harry might be able to help him with …

"Hey Harry," Regulus started hesitantly. "Can I ask you a favor?" Regulus bit his lip. It was always awkward to ask anyone something.

Harry cocked his head. "It depends," said Harry with an encouraging smile.

"Er," Regulus looked about and scratched his in embarrassment. "Do you think you can buy me something in Diagon Alley for a snidget? It's got a pretty deep gash on its wing."

Most of the catalogues his family signed up were from Knockturn Alley, which had more stores about inflicting injuries than healing one.

Harry's concerned face soon melted into an awed one. Harry widened his eyes in wonder like a boy first seeing a dragon. "A snidget?" Harry breathed, his eyes lighting up. "Of course I can do that." He paused, pursing his lips. "Can I see it?" he asked earnestly.

"Yeah," said Regulus with relief. Good. That was that.

Regulus noticed Harry was still awed at the mention of a snidget. He fumbled through his right pocket. Aha. He took it out and let it shoot away. "Only if you catch the snitch first!"

Laughing like the 14-year-old boy he was, for once, Regulus zoomed ahead, once again leaving spluttering Harry behind. He spiraled around, turning and swirling to give Harry some time to catch up with him. When he looked over his shoulders, Harry already transfigured his spectacles into Quidditch goggles and was soaring toward him with a resolute face.

"If I win, we'll have a lesson on grindylows and actually have one in your room to practice!" Harry bellowed.

Regulus' broom faltered for a moment.

"What?! No!" Regulus squeaked as he stared Harry's back in horror. Harry was joking, right? He hated, absolutely abhorred, grindylows. He had had nightmares about them after Sirius had sent him one in a wrapped water bowl via owl in Sirius' first year in Hogwarts. Regulus had been excited about the apparent present Sirius sent him from Hogwarts, having no doubt it would be something magical. Oh it sure had been magical – a magical creature. As soon as Regulus had unwrapped the package, a grindylow had jumped out of the bowl and latched itself on Regulus' face, entwining its long fingers around his head for anchorage, screeching ferociously. It had been a baby so its horns were only blunt bumps, but the slime, the sound, the face of it had made Regulus throw up and pass out. He still resented Sirius for that. Now, he regretted telling that episode to Harry.

"Harry!" Regulus shrieked. "You can't do that!" Regulus shuddered at the image of having a grindylow in his own room. Not while he was alive.

"Then you'd better catch it, Regulus." Harry winked and flew away, looking for the snitch.

Regulus ignored the snitch and chased after Harry instead, pleading with him. After minutes of constant wailing and begging from Regulus, Harry called the bet off with a sigh. Regulus slumped on his broom in utter relief.

"But you should learn how to fight it off," Harry advised.

"I'll do it," said Regulus in hoarse voice. "When I see my great-grandchild fighting it."

Harry helplessly shook his head. With a sigh, he resumed finding the snitch.

Now with no grindylow weighing his shoulders, Regulus lazily flew around in circles, attempting to spot the snitch. But his eyes trailed behind Harry. There was a hint of desperation in the way Harry flew. Like a flight of a caged bird that was only let out to fly for an ephemeral moment. Regulus felt like a fledgling, fluttering his wings in slight hesitation mingled with fear. He wasn't that comfortable on brooms yet.

Sometimes Harry would win the Seeker's game, sometimes Regulus would. But he suspected Harry was just letting him win occasionally. Regulus noticed, after several games later, that Harry used a trick, or feint, to make Regulus think he was going after the snitch. He recognized the feint only after he fell for it.

This time the snitch fluttered around Harry, and Harry dived after it, flashing a triumphant grin at his direction.

Afterwards, they flopped down on the grass, sighing heavily, and enjoyed the view of clear sky. For Regulus, it was like having a personal coach. Regulus swallowed. And having a brother back again.

* * *

><p>Sirius let out a heavy sigh as he sank to his bed. There were hushed excited murmurs outside his door, creaking sounds of the hallway floor, opening and closing of a nearby room – likely the storage. It seemed Regulus came back from his practice. Sirius hadn't known Regulus even liked Quidditch anymore.<p>

Sirius heard light steps next door, wandering around the room, and with a barely audible clink the steps died away. Regulus was still a naïve boy who didn't cast constant silencing wards around his room, like the other Blacks.

Sirius was aware that Regulus had some sort of keys to something, but he couldn't care less what secrets keys locked – although he had a vague idea as to what it was for. What surprised Sirius was Regulus' decision to show whatever it was to Carrow. Regulus was quickly opening up to Carrow, Sirius noticed. Years ago, it was Sirius whom Regulus came to whenever something happened. Slowly, but surely, Regulus had withdrawn himself from Sirius. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

Sirius shifted around to face the wall, closing his eyes. Thinking about Regulus wasn't a pleasant thing. To get his mind off him, Sirius concentrated on transforming. That brought a memory of James telling him few days ago that he managed transforming the hind legs. Sirius had made sure to laugh at James who had been walking around stiffly with antlers and a stag's hind legs, with hooves and what James called "a tightly-packed arse." When he had told James he looked like a Faun, James had made a gesture to charge into the mirror with his antlers.

Lightly sniggering at the memory, Sirius scrunched his face in concentration, thinking of an image of a dog.

Sirius stifled a hiss of pain as a sharp pang ran through his arm. He snapped his eyes open and watched with revolted fascination as his right hand started to morph into a massive paw. It was a bit grotesque to see and feel one's hand slowly rearrange itself into something else. Thick hair, no, _fur_ started to sprout, covering his arm in a thick, black fur ball.

He winced as his arm transformed into its normal state, failing to maintain it for more than 20 minutes. Sirius sighed. He should ask James for some help. He reached for the two-way mirror.

* * *

><p>Narcissa held up a peacock feather in the air, admiring its shade of iridescent colors.<p>

_Hm. Not bad. Not bad at all._

She wasn't sure where Lucius Malfoy attained the information that she liked to collect bird feathers, but she had suspicions.

Narcissa gently put down the feather along with her other proud collections on the glass shelf, enchanted with sanitation and preservation charms. The first row was already covered with feathers of different species with various hues, all in their best conditions.

She picked up the letter which the feather was sent with, scanning it with slight amusement. Dear Narcissa, my elegant blossoming flower – Narcissa made a face at that phrase. Since when was Narcissa his? And the flower reference? Too cliché.

Lucius Malfoy was basically saying: my family's crest is a peacock and we have plenty of peacocks at the back of our manor where you can have free access to when you become a Malfoy. Why don't you accept my courtship? From Lucius Malfoy who is generous enough to grace you with my attention since you seem to live up to my standards.

Narcissa was paraphrasing to herself only a little.

Did he think the free access to peacocks would sway her? Narcissa collected bird _feathers_, not peacocks. She was not interested in seeing the animal the feathers were originally embedded on. Idiot. Now if Malfoys had birds-of-paradise — that would be a different matter. She sniggered to herself as she imagined Bellatrix chasing the stupid beasts over an immaculate lawn, hexing each one in different and inventive ways.

Why was he courting her anyway? Usually in these cases, courtship was exchanged between the eldest. Narcissa had considered why Lucius Malfoy was courting her instead of her sisters and concluded that he thought they were too strong for him. Narcissa scoffed.

Narcissa held up her chin proudly. She refused to be considered as the best alternative. Besides, there were far too many things in the world she wanted to do than getting married so soon. Narcissa looked at the world map that was covering almost half of her wall. There were pinned parchments on each of the countries she already visited – mostly confined to Europe.

She slowly traced other continents with her fingers. As soon as she graduated from Hogwarts, Narcissa was determined to travel around the world – to escape Britain and its war. Even if Lucius Malfoy did turn out to be decent, she already knew he would not make a good traveling partner – fussing about the weather and his hair, not wanting to ruin his fancy robes, complaining about how all the traveling was straining his delicate nerves, refraining from _actually exploring_ …

Narcissa shook her head. She carefully and deliberately crumpled up Malfoy's letter, then thought better of it and laid it flat in her owl's cage. Artemis rubbed her beak along Narcissa's fingers and hooted quietly – it almost sounded like the eagle owl was sniggering too.

* * *

><p>One day, Sirius thought his balls would fall off when the git Carrow ever so nonchalantly asked the question.<p>

"Why are you practicing Animagus transformation?"

He froze very noticeably, leaving no room for feigning or denying. Shit, shit, shit, shit! He still had to try.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius said, suppressing his twitching eyelid.

"I would have believed you if I haven't spotted dog fur on the back of your head and neck several times," he cocked his head sideway. "If you don't want your family to notice it, you should practice it until you have it under your control. Or I'd cast a constant Glamour Charm to cover up the fur if I were you," Carrow said.

Sirius clenched his fists under the table, feeling the weeks of frustration boil inside him. That man didn't even know what he was going through.

"That's what I've been trying to do for the past week," he spat, giving up on subterfuge. "I think I'm doing pretty damn well considering this is well beyond Advanced Transfiguration, thank you very much. Do you think it's easy to become an Animagus at the age of fifteen?" he seethed. He glared at Carrow … who was smirking. Sirius wanted to bang his head on the wall.

"That's why I'm offering to help."

Sirius whipped his head towards the man. "What?" asked Sirius, his eyes widening incredulously. "How? You're not an Animagus yourself!"

Carrow raised his eyebrow. "Aren't I?"

"What's your Animagus form, then? Can you transform right now?" he sneered, eyeing the man doubtfully.

He laughed lightly. "Sorry, I can't reveal my form for number of reasons."

"Among those reasons, is it because you actually aren't an Animagus?" Sirius pointedly stared at him.

Carrow grinned. "Touché. No. It's more useful to keep my form secret," he said, pushing up the spectacles on his nose.

Sirius didn't even try to stifle a snort. "What are you, a spy?" said Sirius derisively.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I may be a marauder, too." Carrow flashed a grin.

Sirius paled. It was one of those instances Carrow slipped certain phrases or words that chilled Sirius to his bones. Sirius couldn't help but suspect Carrow knew about _something._ But what? And _how?_

Maybe Carrow was some distant cousin of James who heard about things from him. No, James would recognize the name if he was. Was he Peter's? Remus'? Or was it purely a coincidence?

Sirius cleared his throat. "Suppose I am trying to become an Animagus." Sirius ignored Carrow's amused gaze. "What can you do to help me?"

"It's not what I do that can help you. I can only give you advice."

_Isn't that the same thing?_ Sirius inwardly rolled his eyes.

"Do you know your Animagus form?"

Sirius straightened his shoulders. "Yeah. It's a dog."

Sirius thought he spotted the ghost of a smile forming, but it quickly disappeared without a trace.

"Do you specifically know what kind?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, wondering where this was leading to.

"Then you should start by finding pictures of it and start drawing."

Sirius frowned in confusion, not believing what he just heard. "What?"

"Draw your form. The dog. Don't just draw the dog sitting. Draw it running, jumping, lying down, sleeping, eating, and other forms."

"How's drawing my animagus form on parchments going to help me with the actual transformation?" asked Sirius doubtfully.

Carrow took a quill from an inkwell and started to draw on a parchment. His bright green eyes narrowed in concentration behind the round spectacles.

"When you draw your form," Carrow began, outlining a silhouette of a dog – a running one, judging by its outstretched legs. Carrow was pretty good at drawing, Sirius noted. "You focus on the details of your object. First you'll notice the general silhouette. Then as you get into detail, and the more you draw, you'll notice how the joints work to flex a limb, how a dog maneuvers its body around, and other features that are essential to know for transforming and functioning after the transformation."

Carrow added in fur.

"Animagus transformations are all about how well you know your form," said Carrow, putting down the quill.

As Carrow said that, Sirius surprisingly got the feeling that Carrow actually knew his stuff. Perhaps the man _was_ indeed an Animagus.

Sirius scolded himself for feeling a twinge of envy.

Sirius stared at the magnificent drawing of the dog and felt his insides sink as he noticed the drawing greatly resembled the dog that had come to his mind when he had closed his eyes months ago, meditating on his form. He involuntarily shivered.

* * *

><p>Three days. Three bloody days he collected pictures and drawings, drew dogs in various positions, learned about dogs, and envisioned his Animagus form clearly in his head.<p>

"So this helped you?" Sirius asked once again, gesturing piles of pictures and drawings, with an I-think-I-had-enough face.

Carrow nodded solemnly. "Very much." He lowered his head to read whatever he brought.

"Okay," he sighed and resumed drawing a dog digging its paws into the ground with hunched shoulders, having a ferocious growl on its face. Sirius soon became engrossed with illustrating. He … _liked_ drawing. It was such a simple and mechanic process – see and draw the same thing – but at the same time it required so much concentration and effort. While drawing, his mind didn't consciously or subconsciously drift to unpleasant things he'd rather not think about. Sirius' fingers deftly moved. The furs, the muscles, the bones, the –

"Do you have a werewolf friend?" asked Carrow nonchalantly as if he was asking what time it was right now.

The quill in his hand snapped with a sharp crack. "What?" breathed Sirius, his face drastically paling.

"I knew someone who had wanted to be an Animagus because the person had a friend who was a werewolf," said Carrow with a soft look. "I was wondering if your reason to become an Animagus is like that."

"N, no," Sirius stammered. But he couldn't resist the urge to ask. "Did it work?"

Carrow blinked. "What?"

"Did the person become an Animagus?" Sirius felt his heart wildly beating against his chest.

"Oh yes," the man said proudly. "He was absolutely brilliant in mind. He and his friends successfully became Animagi during their school years."

A thought that Sirius had never deeply pondered on sprang up.

"And … did it help their werewolf friend?" Sirius prayed the hopeful tone of his voice went unnoticed.

Carrow stayed silent for a moment, deep in thought. Sirius oddly felt anxious about the upcoming answer. Then a slow smile spread on the man's lips.

"Yes," he nodded. "They made their friend's transformation very enjoyable."

Sirius let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding, slumping in his chair in relief. He didn't know why but hearing those words made him much confident that he could actually succeed, that they could actually help Remus.

It did start as an idea of helping Remus in his 'furry' days in the beginning. They were discussing about what to do after finding out about Remus' furry problem – Sirius had an inkling of doubt that James knew about it all along but he was waiting for the right moment for Remus to be comfortable and Sirius and Peter to find out, and it was Peter – creative fellow, Peter was – who said that since werewolves were dangerous to humans; on the flip side, werewolves wouldn't be as harmful to animals. They had immediately started to research the Animagus transformation. But no one was sure if it would really help Remus. Still, they thought it was worth a try. But somewhere along the way, Sirius became more fascinated about the idea of becoming an Animagus – and the unimaginable possibilities that came along with it – than deeply considering if this would actually help their friend.

Sirius bowed his head, ashamed. This talk about Carrow's friend brought him back to the initial purpose: helping Moony, helping his friend – so he wouldn't have to spend the full moon all by himself.

With renewed resolution, Sirius concentrated on capturing the finest detail of the dog in his mind.

* * *

><p>Cheerful laughter reached Cassi's ears like a warm breeze.<p>

She turned her head toward the sound and found Harry doubling with laughter at the dancing shrub enchanted by Sirius. The shrub was wriggling its trunk sideways as its other stems were swaying up and down in a comical manner. Sirius' lips were pursed in concentration, yet his eyes sparkling with amusement and elation. Harry lifted his wand and charmed the shrub beside the dancing one, having both hold each other's twigs and swing dance. Sirius let out a bark of laughter, conjured a wig and a felt hat, and placed them on one of the shrubs. In response, with a chuckle, Harry put a bow tie on the other shrub.

Cassi suppressed a giggle from their antics.

It was nice to see Sirius laugh again. Cassi noticed resentment Sirius had around him like a second skin were … subdued. She was glad Sirius seemed to open up to Harry.

Harry was _magical_. He brought magic into her life and into others. Her cousins … softened. That would be the best way to put it. The wild look in Bellatrix's eyes was tamed to a degree. Andromeda seemed less anxious. Narcissa acted like her age. Sirius' rebelliousness quieted down. And Regulus brightened. She felt a smile slip onto her face.

Cassi saw something out of the corner of her eye, and turned to watch Aunt Walburga glare at a laughing Sirius and withdraw into the darkness of the Manor. She frowned at the coldness crossing Walburga's face. She was aware Sirius and his parents did not have the best relationship. Cassi always felt like one was stepping on thin ice whenever Sirius, Aunt Walburga, and Uncle Orion were in the same vicinity.

But for now, all was well.

* * *

><p>Edited June 2014<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Once-overbearing silence had become an air of conciliation. Carrow's presence, reading a book on the other side of the room, was even companionable, if he were to admit it.

The Animagus transformation was still hard, but the presence of someone experienced with Animagi, or so he claimed, did wonders to alleviate his anxiety. But now maintaining his form was once again a problem.

"Er," Sirius started, hoping Carrow would turn around without having Sirius address him directly.

No reply. He was still focused on reading. Carrow's spectacles slightly slid down his nose.

What was he supposed to call him? Mister Carrow? Sirius scrunched his nose. What was the man's name anyway?

Sirius cleared his throat.

Carrow slowly raised his head from the book, pushing up the spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

"Harry." The man stared directly into Sirius' eyes. "My name is Harry."

Sirius averted his eyes, disturbed by the man's ability to read him so easily.

"So," said Sirius slowly. "Do you want me to call you … Harry?"

"Well, it's there to be called, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, looking away and still not sure of calling him Harry.

"Now say it after me, Sirius. Ha – rry," the man said carefully.

Sirius flushed in embarrassment and humiliation. He muttered under his breath, "Git."

Harry countered, "Prat." He grinned.

It struck Sirius how casual their interaction was. Ever so slowly, this — relationship? — between Sirius and Carrow had begun to change from apathy and enmity to … something else. Something amiable.

Sirius must have stayed silent for a while in shock, for Carrow asked, "What? I didn't hurt your sensitive side, did I?"

"What?" Sirius shook his head. "No." Having been trained by James Potter's creative insults, Sirius was immune to unimaginative remarks like 'prat.'

"What were you going to ask?"

"Oh, I was trying to partially transform my arm while looking at the drawing, but it keeps morphing back."

Carrow — no, Harry — stood up and walked over to sit down on a chair next to Sirius.

"How does the transformation feel? Does it feel alien to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Recall the moment when you're arm is transformed. Does it feel alien? Uncomfortable? Repulsive?"

Sirius considered the feeling, of bones realigning, of muscles thickening and thinning, of fur sprouting. "Well, not repulsive, exactly."

Harry nodded encouragingly.

Sirius continued. "But it is … strange."

"Your body and mind are not used to the other form, subconsciously refusing the alien feeling of a new body."

"So … ?" Sirius trailed off.

"The only way for your mind and body to accept the change is to practice often. People's progress on Animagus transformation often depends on how well their minds are adjustable to the transformation."

Sirius eyed the man. "Did … did you have trouble?"

He chuckled. "Of course. It felt like I had parasites all over my body." His face turned solemn. "But I had to force my mind to accept it. I wasn't given much time to spare."

Sirius perked up. "Should I do that too? Force my mind?"

He shook his head. "No. Nothing goes right when you force something. But I was desperate at the time."

"I'm desperate too!" Sirius protested. James and Peter were both ahead of him! He had to succeed at the full transformation before the first full moon at Hogwarts.

"No, Sirius," Harry said firmly. "The risk is not worth it. Why are you pushing it so hard to achieve this so quickly? You've already advanced well beyond what is expected of wizards your age."

Sirius' whole body jerked. And he clenched his jaw.

"Look," Carrow started. "I'll help you as much as I can to get you used to your Animagus form. But don't force your mind. Ever. It's risky."

Sirius swallowed at the man's final tone. He sighed. "Okay." It seemed best to drop the subject.

"Thank you," said Harry with sincerity.

Sirius stared at him in surprise. He was … odd, thanking Sirius for not pushing it.

Harry leaned over and looked at his drawing. He cocked his head.

"You're quite talented in drawing, you know that?"

"I am?" asked Sirius, surprised. Sirius didn't often get a compliment during summer. He grinned.

"Let's practice transforming," Harry said.

Sirius took a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm himself. Then he concentrated.

* * *

><p>The change was subtle, but Regulus could detect it. The look of contempt that flashed in Sirius' eyes in the company of Harry and other Blacks had eased into tolerance — no, acceptance.<p>

Regulus looked out the window and saw Sirius and Harry practicing Transfiguration outside at the back of the Manor. Sirius incanted a spell, transfiguring a shrub into a … doll? After a moment, the shrub turned into a dog shaped figure, but instead of having fur, it had leaves as a hide.

Harry gently chuckled at Sirius' mistake. Regulus could see Harry putting a hand on his forehead, attempting to hide his laughter.

Not swearing or running off with spite as Regulus expected, Sirius sheepishly scratched the back of his head. When Harry continued to laugh, Sirius scowled and lightly punched Harry on the arm, an action that greatly took Regulus off guard. Sirius hadn't shown that much proximity to Regulus in the last few years.

Regulus swallowed down the bitterness that burned his throat. He didn't know at whom this jealousy was directed.

The soft look on Harry's face which Regulus thought was only reserved for him was now toward Sirius. And Sirius was opening up to Harry, showing his playful smiles and antics, while giving Regulus the cold shoulder for years. Harry had worn down his brother's defenses much quicker than Regulus himself had, and in a span of month of knowing him.

Regulus felt as if sharp quills were piercing his heart like thin parchment.

Sirius always took everything away from him. Their parents' attention, the teachers' praises, and so many other things. And now Harry's affection.

Regulus bit down his lip, his eyes downcast.

He would forever be standing in Sirius' shadow.

* * *

><p>As much as Andromeda abhorred the afternoon tea time with her relatives, the cauldron cakes were heavenly and worth enduring her relatives' obnoxious presence.<p>

"Did you read _the Prophet_ today?" said Irma after she devoured a piece of treacle tart.

"Mhmm," Pollux affirmed.

"Another muggle village was raided," said Walburga without a hint of remorse or sympathy.

"Heard another mudblood family got wiped out," said Arcturus casually while sipping his tea.

Andromeda almost dropped her cup. She tried to breathe steadily. "Where was this?" she asked, keeping her tone dispassionate.

"I didn't look too carefully. I just couldn't care less," said Walburga coldly.

She barely paid attention to the pureblood gossips her relatives were so fond of talking about.

Andromeda excused herself and rushed into her room.

Sod this. She didn't care if her family found out she corresponded with a muggleborn. She needed to know if he was safe and well.

Andromeda frantically searched for a piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill, and furiously scribbled her worry onto the parchment.

Once she finished the letter, fear gripped her heart again.

What if her parents and her relatives found out? Was it worth it?

Of course she loved Ted. She loved him so much that on some days, she felt like just announcing it in front of the Heads of the Blacks

But she was sixteen.

Was she going to marry him? Who knew? They didn't swear an eternal oath of love or something. Of course she hoped it would last forever. But… what if they break up later and she finds someone else?

Was her relationship with Ted right now worth risking everything? Everything she had with her sisters, her parents, and her relatives? The wealth and the connections?

Andromeda knew she would instantly owl Ted if she was at least a legal adult with her own footing in the world. But she wasn't. Despite feeling like a grown up, she was still sixteen. And she was still dependent on her family.

Andromeda wasn't paying much attention to what Harry was saying about Charms; her mental debate over the letter kept her occupied.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" said Harry, disrupting yet another passionate argument in her mind.

She jerked in surprise. "How…?"

"I heard about the attack. I can deliver the letter, if you'd like. Or find out if he's okay."

She grasped his hands in a tight grip. "Oh, would you, Harry? Please?"

Harry nodded.

She almost sobbed in relief.

* * *

><p>Cassi blamed herself for letting her guard down around her cousins, especially Sirius. But who could really blame her? Sirius was too immersed in pranking Harry for the entirety of the summer so Cassi thought she was off his prank radar.<p>

When Cassi was walking down the hallway, out of nowhere, Sirius popped out with a very realistic looking banshee model hanging on a fish rod, dangling it right in front of Cassi's face.

The banshee opened its jaws and let out a blood-curdling scream.

"EEEEEEEE—" it screeched, its bloodshot eyes rolling backwards.

Cassi let out a shriek herself, and lashed out in defense, kicking Sirius on the shin.

"OW!" Sirius yelped, clutching his leg and hopping around. The Banshee on the rod also dangled jerkily as Sirius kept bouncing around.

Andromeda rushed out of her room to see what the racket was about, pausing to take in the scene in front of her.

Then she cackled. "You're lucky little Cassi didn't blast accidental magic, Sirius."

"True that," Sirius grimaced, rubbing his leg.

"Take that horrid thing away from me," Cassi scowled. "I'll take this as a declaration of prank war." She turned to Andromeda. "Andy, you're with me."

Andromeda grinned and bowed.

"_Sirius! What on earth were you thinking?!"_ shot out a voice from the doorway.

Sirius jumped, looking guilty.

Lucretia paced over with a frantic look and fussed over Cassi.

"Mum, I'm fine, no, I'm really _fine_," said Cassi, swatting her mother's worried hands roaming on her face.

"I know, dear. But you did pass out a few weeks ago."

Lucretia thought her heart would burst from fear when she found her daughter on the floor, ghastly pale and cold.

"That was _weeks_ ago!" Cassi cried. It had taken her at least two weeks to convince her mother that she was fine and she can handle the outside world enough to go to Diagon Alley with her.

All the while, Irma and Arcturus silently watched the interaction shrewdly.

* * *

><p>Regulus stared at the man whom he was starting to regard as an older brother figure, something Sirius had refused to become. Harry smiled encouragingly at him, prompting him to go on.<p>

He had told Harry he wanted to try brewing Veritaserum on his own few days ago. Harry had offered to supervise, but not directly help him.

No tips and help were to come from Harry, yet Harry occasionally spoke out loud to praise him, "Well done."

He was in the final stage of Veritaserum brewing.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he saw Harry's expectant face shining beside him. The silent support from him helped Regulus calm his shaking hands.

The potion turned colorless, and the prevailing scent receded. After few minutes, colorless and odorless, water-like liquid shimmered in the cauldron.

"I did it!" he rejoiced.

In the heat of jubilant outburst, Regulus rushed to Harry and enveloped him in a tight hug, laughing joyously. "I did it, Harry! I brewed Veritaserum! On my own!" He buried his face against Harry's chest, smiling. Then realizing what he was doing, Regulus abruptly pulled out of the embrace with a start. But Harry pulled him in his arms with a triumphant laughter, holding him firmly.

"Yes, you did!" said Harry as he let go. Harry beamed at him, eyes flashing in pride and with delight. "I knew you would."

Regulus resisted the urge to scratch the fuzzy spot on his chest at Harry's warm gaze. Then he perked up at the thought of telling his parents about his accomplishment.

"Can we call it a day?" Regulus asked, barely masking the enthusiasm to tell his parents. Oh how proud they would be to hear Regulus – at the age of thirteen! – brewing something as complex as Veritaserum!

"Okay, okay." Harry tried to calm him as he levitated the cauldron away from half bouncing Regulus. "I'll put this on your desk, alright? Just be careful with it."

"I will!" Regulus piped up. He inched forward to the door, almost blocking Harry's way. He laughed and led Regulus out the door.

"I'm going to Diagon Alley now. Anything you want me to get you?" Harry asked while heading towards the Floo.

"No, I'm good!" Regulus enthusiastically waved goodbye. Harry grinned and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing with a roar of the green fire.

Regulus rushed to the lounge where his parents usually were. They weren't there. He dashed to other rooms, peeping in.

Unsuccessful on the first floor, Regulus hopped up the stairs, pushing the hair strands out of his eyes. His face brightened when he found his parents standing in the hallway.

He half-ran up to them. "Mum! Dad!" he called, eager to tell them about the Veritaserum.

His smile quickly dissipated by their stances. Walburga held up her hand impatiently. "Reg, dear, just a moment."

Regulus snapped his mouth shut, sensing the tense atmosphere around them.

" – you mean I can't go?" Sirius' voice echoed in the hallway.

Regulus bit his lip. It was Sirius. Again.

He shifted around to see what was going on, resisting the urge to scream out loud.

"It's a formal invitation – I can't refuse that!" Sirius said, waving a parchment with a Potter family crest on it in their father's face.

" – you're associating with Potters – " Orion's voice held barely-contained anger.

"What's wrong with that?" Sirius shot back. "They're _purebloods_, aren't they? The Potters are almost as old as the Blacks! Why can't I associate with them?"

"They're muggle-loving fools," his father hissed. "Dorea's become a mindless pawn of Dumbledore. I won't have you degrade the Blacks by socializing those mavericks! Don't you have any regard for how much your actions cost us?"

Sirius tensed up. His hands tightened into fists, and Regulus began to panic.

"That's funny," Sirius shouted, "because the only people I feel sorry for are the Potters for disgracing them because I'm a Black!"

His father's face turned an ugly shade of red.

Walburga stepped forward and faced Sirius. "Do not speak about the family name that way. You may go to the Potter's on this occasion. Merlin knows what would happen if we declined the Potters. But act according to your station, Sirius," she said coldly. "Or we'll have to consider transferring you to Durmstrang to correct you."

Sirius stiffly nodded and strode into his room without a word, and slammed his door shut.

She turned around. "What did you have to tell us, Regulus?"

Regulus felt a knot twist in his stomach at his mother's tired voice. "Nothing," he mumbled. "Nothing."

He turned and fled.

* * *

><p>Harry slowly opened his eyes, once again waking up with a splitting headache. He blearily stared at the ceiling for a while, blinking away the sleepiness.<p>

He took a quick shower, fixed a breakfast for himself – a simple tea and a muffin, and pulled out a robe and a vest from his closet. While putting on the vest, his spectacles were caught in a loose string and fell off his nose. He fumbled with the tangled string for a few minutes, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and succeeded in disentangling his round spectacles. He let out a heavy sigh as dizziness that one got when focusing on a tiny thing for too long swept over him. With another exasperated sigh, he put down his spectacles on the kitchen table and cast a charm on his eyes. Even after casting the charm, thus having a clear vision, out of habit, he lifted his hand to push of the spectacles, only meeting his nose. He shrugged.

Harry once again headed to Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p>Mundungus Fletcher grudgingly surveyed the Diagon Alley with jaded eyes, occasionally kicking the particles of broken bricks at his feet in a fit of boredom. He took care to stay in the shadows at the edge of Knockturn Alley, his stout stature giving him some advantage. Dung flicked his wand to light a cigarette, also casting a charm to dissipate the smell and the smoke coming from it, and took a deep breath, bitter and hollow scent filling his lung. He checked the time and grumbled. That crook was supposed to meet him few minutes ago. He scanned the crowd again.<p>

He was officially here to look out for another Death Eater raids as a member of the Order of Phoenix. They were taking shifts to guard major Wizarding sites for possible raids.

But unofficially, he had a deal to make.

He fiddled with the enchanted pouch containing cauldrons he was supposed to trade with the crook he was meeting today. The crook had said he saved something good for Dung, but every crook with dubious background always said such thing while in business.

In the corner of his eye, Dung saw a young man walk out of Borgin and Burkes with a large, flat parcel tucked under his right arm. The man stood nearby the entrance of Borgin and Burkes for a moment, seemingly at a loss, wearing a look of a child who did not know where to go. What a peculiar face for a person to wear at such age, Dung mused absent-mindedly. Everyone on the road had a destination in mind, and amongst such crowd of people who took each step with clear intent, the man's aimlessness substantially stood out. But Dung dismissed the man. Probably another crook or a painter trying to sell what seemed like a painting but failed to catch Borgin or Burke's attention.

Dung sensed someone approach from behind and knew it was the crook he intended to meet.

"Took you long enough, you scum." Dung shoved the bag onto the other's chest.

The shabby man toothily grinned, revealing yellow, crooked teeth, and let out a cough-like laugh. "I'm telling yeh, this _is_ good." The man dug his hand in his inner coat pocket and pulled out a bag. He beckoned Dung, urging him to bend over in a conspiratorial manner to get a good look at the content of the bag.

As he calculated the estimate value of the goods inside, Dung forgot about the green-eyed man.

He caught a sight of another man in his mid-twenties coming out of the Knockturn Alley: Evan Rosier, a talented Curse-Breaker who was on the Order list of potential ally to recruit/potential Death Eater to keep watch on.

His dark hair was well-groomed, and his skin pale as if he spent the past few weeks inside and documenting files instead of being outside under the blazing sun.

"Evan Rosier? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be in South America?"

Rosier stopped in his tracks and lazily looked at him. His languid dark brown eyes swept over Dung. "Why, if it's the infamous Mundungus Fletcher. Keeping a tab on me, are you?"

Rosier eyed him dispassionately. "Heard the rumors that you're working for … quite the opposite of the sort you normally associate with. Change of heart?" He tilted his head and smiled charmingly, which shifted his languid features into looking like a mischievous boy.

Dung just scowled at him. He owed Dumbledore loyalty for saving him from a very tight spot, saving his life.

"What about you, then? Which side are you associating with?"

Dung pointedly looked down at Rosier's left arm.

Rosier laughed softly. "Side? Oh, I don't play favorites. Treasures and traps are my passions, Fletcher, not wars. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way to meet my fellow Curse-Breakers."

He did not bother to wait for Dung's reply as he swiftly turned and walked away.

Dung grimaced and made a note to himself to report to the Order that Evan Rosier was back in the country.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

James Potter sighed in frustration as he slammed shut the thick Advanced Charms textbook. He could almost figure out the mechanism to tie in all the spells together for the Marauder's Map, but inspiration eluded him. James sighed. He needed Sirius to brainstorm.

He eyed the calendar on his room's wall once again to make sure full moon was not too soon.

James remembered the first time he suspected Remus might be a werewolf. Thanks to his mother's habit of diligently keeping a diary, James also owned a diary. He would draw in a sad face whenever Remus would be away from illness or family circumstance … for every month. His stomach sank when he checked the lunar calendar and when the days fell into place. Even for quite a while he still couldn't believe it, but all the signs were there.

His first thought was to approach Madam Pomfrey. Surely as the matron and nurse, Madam Pomfrey would be trusted to help Remus whichever he dealt with the transformation. Midway through the second year, James charged into the Infirmary, alone, and asked if Remus was a werewolf, or rather, he knew about Remus' condition and he wanted to help. Madam Pomfrey initially didn't seem to want to disclose further about Remus' condition. James offered to make an Unbreakable Vow to keep the secret. She smiled and told him that she wasn't the person whom he should offer the Vow, but she could understand James' sentiment.

She did tell him in the end. And she answered patiently as James asked her about the transformation, the effects and aftermath of the transformation, how to broach the subject to Remus and his friends, and what he could do as a friend. At the end of his question session, Madam Pomfrey patted James' messy jet-black hair with a proud smile and said, "Remus would be more than glad to know that he has a friend like you."

According to Madam Pomfrey, after the transformation was as bad as transforming into a werewolf because of the shock to the victim's muscles and nerves and fatigue. The next thing James did was to immediately write to his parents to ask if they could donate to Hogwarts, specifically to the Infirmary so that it can stock up on pain medicine and potions. He didn't reveal why to his parents, deeming it would only be appropriate to tell them after Remus granted him permission – if only he could find a good way to tell Remus without inducing terror. The rest of first year and early second year passed by with James trying to carefully, surreptitiously mention how werewolves were not dangerous most of the time.

James could still remember that one time Remus didn't come back in time in their second year. Ever since he had his doubts about Remus being the werewolf after noticing the trend of his absences and illness, he secretly marked his calendar the full moon days so only he could see it. On the days of full moon, James would stay up reading until the charm he cast in the infirmary — with Madam Pomfrey's consent of course — notified him that Remus was back in the infirmary bed.

Except one day he didn't.

James grabbed his wand and hurried out to find Remus, with Sirius and Peter trailing behind him, confused.

"I thought Remus went home?" Sirius called after him.

"No, he didn't."

After casting successions of 'Point me' charm, they found him passed out in middle of the Dark Forest, with scratches and other wounds.

"Merlin's beard! I didn't know Remus sleep walked to this extent!"

James was willing to let it pass for now because even if it was not night, the Dark Forest was still dangerous.

"Okay, you hold his left arm and I'll hoist his right side," said James. Peter upheld the Invisibility cloak.

It _ached_ James to see that even in his unconscious state, Remus was skittish and shifting away from their touches as if his skin still remembered having the lethal claws and bites and he couldn't bear to risk the contact.

On the way back to Hogwarts Infirmary, that was when James decided to make a map of Hogwarts just in case things like this happen again — to prevent Remus from _ever_ waking up alone in an unfamiliar place. It was bad enough that Remus had to go through this let alone all by himself.

* * *

><p>Sirius bolted through the fireplace, his footsteps light and cheerful as he stepped onto the floor of the Potter manor, and felt the tight invisible chain grasping his heart ease the moment he took in the familiar sight of welcoming Potters. His eyes welcome the variegated shade of red, yellow, brown, orange, and other warm hues that decorated the Potter manor, so different from the dull, glum, and cold hue of grey, black, and silver.<p>

"Padfoot!"

Even before Sirius could set his trunk down, James swung his arms around him with such a force that sent them down the floor – thankfully, Mr. Potter was quick to cast a cushioning charm. When Sirius peeked at Mr. Potter through James' messy hair, he did not seem suspicious of the nickname, probably regarding it as a childhood nickname.

"Mum said she'll be home in couple of hours," James said when he noticed Sirius glance around in search of Mrs. Potter.

"How have you been doing, Sirius?" Mr. Potter amiably thumped him on the back.

"As well as I can during the summer, Mr. Potter." Sirius flashed a playful grin. He saw James frown out of the corner of his eyes. James never understood why Sirius insisted on putting an act in front of the Potters that he fared well at home during the summer, when, in truth, it was far from it. Sirius never wanted the Potters to pity him. Love him for himself, he wanted, but never pity him.

"I'll call you when the lunch is ready."

Every time Sirius met Mr. Potter, he couldn't help but strongly think that this was what James would look like when he was old: the laugh lines visible around the kind brown eyes — well, James would still have the mischievous look — along with few wrinkles, untamable hair peppered with flecks of grey – Sirius noticed it wasn't too bad today; perhaps one of Mrs. Potter's bizarre attempts to calm it down worked for once.

Sirius headed up to the room beside James' where he usually slept whenever he came over to the Potters, while James loitered about him, updating Sirius on the news of others.

"Remus said he got the Prefect badge!"

Sirius stopped in midway of unpacking, not believing what he heard. "What? When?" asked Sirius, annoyed that he couldn't keep up with the news of his friends' activities during the summer because of his "abysmal taste of friends." His dislike of his family had taken a firmer root in his heart when he had been told he could not communicate with "undesirable company" ever since he had come home after sorted to Gryffindor. Sirius could only be thankful that James had two-sided mirror to communicate without owls.

"He wrote to me yesterday. I thought the professors had drunken Hippogriff piss for the morning teas before they had the meeting!"

"How can Remus be a Prefect? He's a Marauder!"

James sat down on a chair, crossed his leg, and raised his spectacles with a calculating gleam in his eyes. "My dear Sirius, I pondered on this blasphemy after I got Remus' letter," James trailed off intentionally to peak Sirius' curiosity. Instead, Sirius scoffed, busying himself on brushing his hair off his face, implying 'I doubt your theory is plausible.'

James snorted but continued on anyway. "You know Remus keeps his studious, well-behaving mask on in public. From the professors' perspectives, _of course_ he would look _extra_ studious and well-behaved when he's with us! We act like bunch of buffoons every meal – yes, I am aware of that fact, Padfoot, and you ridicule yourself the most – while Remus sits beside us reading a textbook!"

Sirius pursed his lips. "Not a bad theory coming from you, Prongs."

James shot him an affronted look. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Sirius innocently shrugged.

"Anyways, Remus should be thankful of his friends for making him a Prefect."

Sirius was about to give in and agree to James when a voice drawled at the doorway. "What is this ridiculous notion, may I ask?"

"Remus!" James stood up and tackled Remus into a rough hug. "Speaking of the werewolf!"

Remus scrunched his face as James' messy hair poked his face like porcupine quills and broke free of the embrace.

After assessing Remus – same fatigued face, light brown hair, Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. "You grew again! What is this, a lycanthropy blessing?"

Soon he would end up as a midget among them. Well, only if Peter would not outgrow him.

Remus growled at the forbidden 'l word.' "No, you idiot. It's my manly hormones activating."

"And mine aren't?" Sirius challenged and got to his feet, but noticed he was couple of inches short. Damn it.

Remus smirked. "It seems so. Don't you think so too, James?"

James sniggered. Then James and Remus straightened their postures and looked down their nose at Sirius. He growled. Where was Peter when he needed him?

"Aw, Remus, your manly shoulders are so reliable," James crooned, placing his head on the crook of Remus' neck. Remus swatted him away.

"BOYS!" a voice boomed from the kitchen. "Lunch!"

Leaving a spluttering Remus behind them, Sirius and James scrambled downstairs, clutching their hungry stomach. Mr. Potter, wearing an apron with snitch pattern, turned his head and smiled at them, while flipping whatever food, and his face quickly distorted into horror as he almost dropped it. James gave Mr. Potter a quick hug from behind before he sat down on the chair between Remus and Sirius. James was quite an affectionate child towards his parents. Sirius often witnessed atrocious sight of one James Potter act like a 'darling boy,' his voice somewhat high, eyes big, and lips curled into a sweet smile whenever he had favors to ask to his parents or on their birthdays. To Sirius, it was most foreign sight, seeing such interaction between a child and parents. Truth was he could imagine Regulus being a sweet boy to their parents, only to have them shoo him away with an annoyed look and treating him like a nuisance.

Finished eating, they lay back on the chairs in content, sated, while Remus went upstairs to unpack his belongings.

A bell on the front door chimed as Mrs. Potter entered, and she pressed a kiss on Mr. Potter's cheek and on James' cheek, although James tried to avoid her, saying, "Eww, no, Mum."

"How was your experiment?" Mr. Potter asked, wiping his hands on his apron and lightly hugging his wife.

"I need to wait few more days to wait for the results."

Mr. Potter nodded and bowed his head to whisper against Mrs. Potter's ear.

Sirius could only catch few words and phrases.

"— declining You-Know-Who's offer — cousin disappeared a week ago —"

Mrs. Potter's face turned grave and there was a flash of fear and sorrow flickering in her eyes. She gently laid her hand on Mr. Potter's shoulder and gave a reassuring smile, albeit uncertain. Mr. Potter nodded jerkily and forced a grin.

Their exchange was quick and subtle, but it did not go unnoticed to Sirius who had spent his entire life with his well-being dependent on detecting subtle cues of his relatives to avoid violent confrontation. He wondered what Mr. Potter was talking about.

Her face brightened as she spotted Sirius.

"How is my favorite son?" She affectionately ruffled up Sirius' hair. James didn't even bother to argue, knowing his mum really considered Sirius a son.

James coughed. "Mum, Remus is here, too."

Mrs. Potter's smile widened more. "My another favorite son!"

Sirius grinned. "Looking lovely as usual, Mrs. Potter." He held up her hand and pecked a chaste kiss with a cheeky smile.

"Don't flatter me, Sirius. James makes a fuss every time he notices a new wrinkle on my face. What was the last count again, James?" asked Mrs. Potter, giving James a pointed look.

James avoided Mrs. Potter's glare, fidgeting the table cloth. "Well, if I remember, it was close to twenty something."

Mr. Potter huffed. "Nonsense. I don't notice any sign of aging," said Mr. Potter as he landed a quick affectionate kiss on Mrs. Potter's cheek. Sirius looked away, embarrassed, feeling as if he was intruding an intimate moment, his hair shielding his reddened face. His parents never did that. Merlin, his parents would never do that.

Mrs. Potter frowned at Sirius' longer than usual hair.

"Sirius, I could make a curtain for James' room with that hair of yours," said Mrs. Potter. "And it won't do any good to the girls and boys to hide that handsome face of yours behind the hair." She chuckled softly.

Sirius nibbled his lower lip. He always wore his hair long during the summer, since it was a good tactic to hide his grimace during family dinners. James knew such reason, hence the inquiring eyes roaming Sirius' face.

"I'm the one who cuts our family's hair. You're the only person I didn't lay my hands on, Sirius."

Sirius felt his chest warm at Mrs. Potter's casual implication of considering him as a family.

"Er – can I blame you for my 'mop of a hair,' Mum?" James asked, running his hand through his messy, bird-nest like hair.

Mrs. Potter glared at James. "Blame your father for that one, James Potter. You got your dashing look from me, but that wires you call hair came from your father."

Mr. Potter let out a chuckle, running his hand through his equally disheveled hair as James'.

"Now, I don't want to force you or anything, but haircut? No?"

Sirius opened his mouth and clamped shut. He tugged a strand of his hair, contemplating if it was really too long.

He distantly heard the fireplace flare up. Mr. Potter sauntered out the room to check on it and came back with news of Peter.

"James! Sirius! Peter said he will be coming in next couple of hours."

"Okay," said James and Sirius in unison.

Mrs. Potter was still waiting for his reply.

"Er, isn't there a hair-cutting charm?" asked Sirius awkwardly.

James leaned in. "Mate, I tried it before and …" James lowered his voice. "Head hair wasn't the only hair cut." James grimaced.

Hearing that, Sirius made a pitying face, letting out an 'aww,' and patted James on the shoulder.

"Is that why you invented Depilation cream? As a revenge to the whole world?" mouthed Sirius.

James glared at Sirius. After he snuck a glance at his mum, he grumpily let out, "Yeah."

"The charm doesn't really work," said Mrs. Potter. "Sirius, I hope it's clear that I am not forcing you to get a haircut." She carefully eyed Sirius.

Sirius nodded. "I know, Mrs. Potter." He ran his hand through his hair again and looked over at Remus, who shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Excellent!" Mrs. Potter beamed and went to find necessary tools for hair-cutting and came back with quite intimidating looking pair of scissors. Sirius gulped.

Mrs. Potter chortled at his nervous look. "It's okay, Sirius," Mrs. Potter reassured as she draped a cloth over him around his neck.

Sirius felt a hand slip into his. "It's okay, darling. I'm here with you." James petted his hand with a mocking look of concern. "I know getting your hair cut is a very very scary thing. But once you're through, you'll be a _man_." James brushed off non-existent tears. "My little ickle Sirius, all grown up and having his hair cut," he cooed, looking up at Sirius through his lashes.

"Sod. Off," he mouthed, crushing James' hand with an iron grip. James hissed in pain and pulled out his hand. He gloated at Sirius. "I'll go tell our Remus what important stage of life you're going through, Sirius!" James hopped away.

"Thank you for putting up with him, Sirius." Mrs. Potter let out an exaggerated sigh. "Actually, I should be thanking Remus for putting you two in line."

Sirius snickered and then fell silent when Mrs. Potter started brushing his hair into neat strands.

As scissors snipped out strands of Sirius' hair, falling on to the floor with a whisper, Sirius felt utterly vulnerable, feeling like his personal curtain shielding his raw heart were being cut out and torn apart. He shuddered. Then Mrs. Potter lightly laced her fingers through his hair. His eyelids drooping, Sirius savored the gentle motherly touch, his body slacking as tension in his every muscle left at the single contact. No one touched Sirius' head much less than his hair. Not even his family.

The walls he had not even been aware of their existence crumbled … and Sirius, much to his shock, felt a sting in the rim of his eyes. While he mentally berated himself for being overly sentimental and a cry baby, he basked in the foreign feeling of trusting his body in someone else's hand.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

He heard scissors snipping, distant voice of James, Remus, and Mr. Potter talking about the upcoming school year, and Mrs. Potter's gentle humming coming above him.

It was one of the happiest, most content moments of his life.

* * *

><p>A stag trudged around the field at ease, sometimes going over to a tree and scratching the bark on the tree with his antlers. Remus teasingly pulled at its short, almost non-existent tail. The stag pranced forward, twisting its neck to angrily huff at Remus. A large dog tramped towards the stag and snapped its jaws at the stag's tail. The stag turned around and charged at the dog with its quite formidable antlers, and the dog yelped in surprise and pranced back and forth in front of the stag.<p>

James shifted back and, breathless with laughter, staggered towards Peter who hadn't made a move to transform, only standing beside Remus who guffawed at their antics. Sirius changed back after James.

"Peter! You should transform too!"

Peter's face turned gloomy.

"I'm a rat," said Peter in a miserable voice. "I'm already small, and I hoped I would at least get a big animagus form! It's so pathetic." Peter bowed his head, dejected. "Even if I transform, I'll probably get stomped by you three."

"Nonsense!" James boomed. He swung his arm around Peter's shoulders, giving him encouraging pat. "You can go anywhere with that size, mate!" Then James gasped and started to jump up and down in excitement. "You can prod the knot under the Whomping Willow! We don't have to use that wretched stick! And you know rodents are wicked at surviving, Peter. You won't get stepped on!" James flashed Peter a blinding grin.

Peter started to look hopeful. "If you say so …" he trailed off with a small smile.

James lifted his chin. "A wolf, a stag, a mutt," – "Oi!" Sirius bellowed in outrage – "and a rat," he announced, looking around at his friends, with a goofy smile on his lips. "We make a fine team, don't we?"

Sirius couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p>The usual stillness and serenity accompanying the time between midnight and dawn filled the house.<p>

Four shadowy figures tiptoed down the stairs, hushing and elbowing each other whenever the stairs creaked below their feet.

"Are you sure we can do this, James?" Peter whispered meekly, glancing around in a worried manner. His forehead was already sweaty with perspiration from anxiety of getting caught by the Potters.

"Shh!" Three Marauders held up their fingers to their mouths at Peter. Peter scrunched his shoulders and wordlessly nodded.

Holding their breaths and flinching whenever they heard even the quietest noise, the Gryffindors finally made their way through the front door and slumped in relief.

"Why are we doing this again?" Remus asked, sighing. Out of habit, he cast a quick glance at the night sky above them.

James perked up. "Don't you want to see the muggle counterpart of Diagon Alley? London?" said James, his voice still hushed in fear of waking his parents but his thrill barely suppressed.

Sirius twirled his wand in his hand. "Well, yeah," he conceded as his gears shifted in his mind for pranking mode. "But why now?"

"Why not now?" James countered. "Soon we'll have to take OWLs and then NEWTs, and we'll graduate!"

The other three shuffled their feet around, not comfortable with the idea.

"I _promise_ we'll be back before mum and dad wake up."

Seeing his friends wavering, James surreptitiously swished his wand and waited with a smug grin, no doubt his friends would hop into the Knight Bus even though they seemed reluctant now.

True to his expectation, a gust of wind forcing the air out of the boys, the Knight Bus stopped right in front of them.

Leaving his gobsmacked friends behind, James showed his wand and stepped onto the bus. He turned around and beckoned them in. Sirius stepped right in. Sighing, Remus also climbed up the bus stairs, with Peter at his heels.

"To London!" James cried to the conductor.

* * *

><p>The Marauders didn't get too far from the spot where the Knight Bus dropped them off. Their robes gained too much attention from the Muggles even at night because of the bright city lights surrounding them. Since it was impossible for them to brandish their wand to utter Point Me spells if they were to get lost, they cautiously roamed around until they realised the Knight Bus could find them wherever they were.<p>

James insisted they go into a pub and order some muggle drinks, but the pubs were too full of angry mob wearing colorful shirts that resembled sports uniforms fighting with those wearing different colored shirts.

Something kept diverting Sirius' attention, tugging at his conscious like an insistent child.

First, it was the noise. A faint roaring sound that kept getting louder and louder and louder. Sirius turned to the direction where the sound was approaching.

Blinding light struck his eyes. Wincing, Sirius raised his hand to shield his night-adjusted, tender eyes. Through his squinting eyes he saw among the four-wheeled cars dragging slowly on the street due to considerable traffic jam, a sleek vehicle with two wheels – only two wheels! – easily dash past the stagnant cars through the narrow spaces, not restricted by anything other than traffic light.

_Oh my god, what a beauty —_

Sirius' eyes trailed after the thing, his jaw slack with awe, as the rider leaned precariously sideways to turn around the curve and sped through the cars, exuding an aura of _freedom and danger._

And Sirius Black fell in love with the mysterious two-wheeled thing. He knew it was true love at first sight.

* * *

><p>They stepped out of the Knight Bus, which vanished in a blink. Their legs weak from too much laughing in one crazy night, the Gryffindors slung their arms on the shoulders next to them and staggered forward to the door.<p>

It was the best night.

Awaiting the delirious Marauders, drunk with laughter, when they arrived at James' house, was a ghastly Mrs. Potter smiling at them with gleaming eyes.

First to face Mrs. Potter, as he stumbled through the door, Sirius let out a barely suppressed yelp and then a screech.

"ARGH!"

In reflex, Sirius spun around and bumped into his friends, knocking the four onto the floor and having lanky teenager boys all tangled in their limbs on the cold floor.

"What in the bloody hell —" James hissed in confusion as he pushed Peter's face back, groaning as Remus elbowed him in the ribs, and spluttered around Sirius' hair in his mouth. They were all shouting and bellowing at each other to get off and causing ransack.

"Gerroff!" Remus wheezed, Peter's weight on his stomach suffocating him, and flailed his arms in desperation, wincing as he heard James grunt in pain again.

Click.

Marauders froze and fell silent as the living room light turned on, momentarily blinding them. Then Sirius carefully lifted his squinted eyes and gulped as his eyes met with Mrs. Potters'. He attempted to flash an innocent smile — though he could feel the corners of his mouth trembling.

Peter, on his stomach on the floor, squeaked in a shrill voice, "What idiot turned on the lights? Do you want to get _caught?_"

"_I_ turned on the light, Peter," rang out a calm voice.

Sirius could feel Peter freeze in absolute terror and hiccup, letting out arrays of squeaks.

"Mrs. Po – Potter?" Peter whimpered between his hiccups.

Poor Peter was oddly afraid of Mrs. Potter, probably the sweetest person he had ever met, though she did occasionally show the fierce side of a lioness. Like now.

She smiled sweetly at them with hardened eyes. "After you are done sweeping the dust off the floor and untangle yourselves, at least one of you can tell me what is going on and why you are not in your beds."

The Marauders scrambled up, dusting off their clothes while studiously avoiding Mrs. Potter's hawk-like gaze.

"Er –," Sirius awkwardly started, lightly coughing a few times. "Well," he paused, cursorily glancing through his hair at Mrs. Potter who was raising her eyebrow in a sarcastic way that implied, 'Alright, I'm listening. Keep bumbling about, you idiot.'

Sirius continued to dig his own grave. "Erm. Remus wanted to –" Sirius ignored Remus' indignant hiss of protest "admire the — er — glorious estate of the Potters, to — to admire the scenery and the night sky and to remind ourselves of … our humble existence in this universe?"

Sirius frantically glanced at James for back up.

"Yeah, mum. Remus thought it would be a good idea to calm our egos a bit."

Mrs. Potter nodded thoughtfully. "I see." She sniffed. "Then instead of grass, why do I smell liquor?"

That involved bloody James Potter enthusiastically barging into the bar, saying he always wanted to experience bar fight, and the rest of the Marauders diving into the mob to haul out one James Potter by his hair because that was the only body part they could reach.

The Marauders thickly gulped.

That night when Sirius went to bed, after being scolded by Mr. Potter and Mrs. Potter about how dangerous it was for them to go to London alone without proper adults, Sirius thought he could still hear the roar of the vehicle against his ear. His heart leapt in sheer envy as he remembered the sight.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Even back at his gloomy home after glorious days of respite at the Potters, indifferent and infuriating relatives and sullen atmosphere didn't make the frenzy from seeing a motorcycle – what a lovely name! – go away. Sirius found himself dreaming of the beauty that dominated the city, imagining himself skillfully maneuvering the vehicle and feeling the wind against his skin.

Was this how Peter felt when he had whined about a girl he couldn't stop thinking and refused to go to sleep all night long?

The bed covers rustled as he tossed and turned on his bed. And an idea came to him.

Sirius scrambled to his feet, rummaged through his drawers, and found a parchment. He snatched a quill, after dunking it in the inkwell, and wildly scribbled on the parchment. When he was done, he tied the parchment to his owl which never really delivered any mail since the start of summer. "To Uncle Alphard, alright?"

He grinned at his owl's excited hoots and restlessly flapping wings in eagerness and opened the window to let it fly. The owl disappeared into the night.

Sirius hoped for the best.

* * *

><p>Ordinary day. Usual gloominess of the Black manor. Usual Animagus practice with Harry which lightened his mood. He could keep his Animagus form longer than an hour. But Sirius was restless. It had been three days since he sent the letter. Sirius should have gotten some sort of response from Uncle Alphard by now. Even Harry noticed him fidgeting and regarded Sirius with curious gaze, but didn't ask anything and decided to end the session earlier than usual and nodded along as Sirius excitedly ranted about the latest escapade while staying at James' house.<p>

"It was so majestic, Harry." Sirius sighed dreamily for the umpteenth time.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were in love." Harry fondly shook his head.

"I am in love!" Sirius shouted. "Are you belittling my love because it's toward an object? My love is pure enough to put Pygmalion to shame!" He buried his face in his forearms and groaned. "Even my first crush wasn't like this."

Harry eyed him with amusement. "Mate, you got it bad."

"Just leave me alone to die," wailed Sirius, but it came out muffled as he further crouched forward. Harry merely hummed in response.

Few strands of his hair slid down and tickled his ears. Just as he made a move to brush them off, Sirius registered the sounds from the hallway.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Steady heavy footsteps accompanied by clinking of chains.

There was only one person in this household with such distinct footsteps.

"Uncle Alphard?" he called as he sprinted out the door.

Indeed there stood his uncle, looking ragged in his disheveled robes and hair. Apparently he was feeling too lazy again to shave judging by the slight stubble. For each step he took, dark wavy hair swayed and revealed a sparkle of a dragon earring that coiled over the helix of his left ear. Sirius remembered how James hero-worshipped Uncle Alphard and was envious of that earring – though James was terrified that, if he were to pierce his ear, his earring would get caught somewhere and rip his earlobe off.

"Sirius —" Uncle Alphard stopped in midway as he spotted Harry who closely followed after Sirius.

Not paying any attention to the staring match between his uncle and Harry, Sirius gasped when he saw a parcel in Uncle Alphard's hands and his own hands twitched to reach forward. "Did you really get it?" He raptly eyed the object in Uncle Alphard's hands. "How?" Merlin bless his uncle.

"I asked a friend of mine. But I can give this to you later if you want," he said slowly, cautiously regarding Harry with narrow eyes, scanning the man from head to toe. Sirius found himself momentarily touched by his uncle's concern. Of course, all his uncle knew of this Harry Carrow was this man attended Durmstrang and was of pureblood family – someone who was likely to be disdainful of anything related to muggle, thus tell Sirius' parents about the package he was about to give to Sirius.

Sirius glanced at Harry and shrugged. "He's alright." He did just tell Harry a moment ago of the London escapade at the Potters. Well, except the part he asked Uncle Alphard to get a muggle motorcycle model in any form.

Harry seemed startled and touched at his remark. The lines around his eyes softened and a small smile made way into Harry's lips. Sirius suppressed the urge to squirm under Harry's kind gaze and warm smile. Sirius could only wonder how in the world he had thought those warm green eyes had seemed cold and glassy when he first saw the man.

Nevertheless, Harry was overly sentimental, regarding even small things Sirius said as time's treasure.

Uncle Alphard did not take his eyes off Harry. "Are you sure?" he said lowly to Sirius.

Harry crossed his arms and patiently waited for his uncle to finish evaluating him, countering the piercing grey eyes with his own vibrant and defiant green.

For Sirius, it was oddly amusing to see two men size up each other. Harry, neatly shaved in his tidy robes, and Uncle Alphard looking like he spent at least a week in the mountains with no comfortable accommodations. His uncle had the advantage of tall height – and few years of age – over Harry, but Harry proudly lifted his chin, refusing to be intimidated. At this gesture, Uncle Alphard quirked an eyebrow, his eyes abandoning the investigating and suspicious gleam and taking a curious – even amused – light.

Oh no.

Uncle Alphard had that look whenever he encountered a puzzle which he would hold onto for hours till he solved it. He noticed the obviously amiable bond between Sirius and Harry, and it was only few weeks ago that Sirius had held grudge against Harry. Of course he would be curious.

Sirius hurriedly cut in between the silent staring war. "Mind giving it to me now?"

His uncle withdrew the air of a curious predator. Sirius inwardly let out a relieved sigh. Uncle Alphard gingerly took a box out of the opaque wrapping.

"For kids aged seven to twelve," he read the label, his expression smug. Alphard handed him a package with a smirk, obviously trying to provoke a response from Sirius.

But Sirius was too excited to care about the age range.

"Thanks." He cradled the box in his hands and stared fixedly at it, a sense of awe evident in his heart.

Alphard seemed taken back as Sirius accepted the package without indignant remarks or complaints. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head and coughed.

"Have fun with that," he said and turned around to leave – only to pause and nod at Harry as a farewell. "Carrow."

Harry also gave a stiff nod, his face remaining blank. "Black."

Alphard walked away, dragging his heavy leather boots.

Sirius assessed Harry's face as Uncle Alphard left. "It's so odd to see you expressionless," Sirius mused.

Harry turned his eyes on him. "It is?" His face morphed – eyebrows furrowed in bemusement, his facial muscles aligning to express his surprise.

Sirius fiddled the box in his hands. "Well, you're always very … expressive with your facial features."

"I am?" The man looked alarmed, his mouth slightly agape in shock. Sirius watched with interest as Harry tried to school his expression into a calm, empty mask. Even before a second could pass, his lips twitched and Harry let out a burst of awkward laughter.

"I guess I can only do that to strangers," said Harry. His eyes landed on the package Sirius was preciously clutching. "What is that?"

"Oh, this is –," he stopped himself. Looking around, Sirius dragged Harry along with him into his room and cast a Silence ward, also locking the door. He set the box on his desk and carefully opened the lid with care.

"It's a motorcycle," Harry breathed.

Sirius looked up, surprised. "You know it?"

Harry wordlessly nodded, his face unreadable. "A motorcycle," Harry repeated, dazed.

"Yeah. Well, pieces that would become a motorcycle. Not a real one, 'cause this is ridiculously small and it's for kids, but still – " Sirius babbled, his excitement getting the better of him. His fingers traced the tiny wooden pieces. His heart swelled with elation. Maybe this was how James felt when he received the newest broom edition. Now he understood, to a certain degree, why James tucked the broom in his arms while even he slept.

Sirius cast a cursory glance at Harry's face as his slender, yet slightly calloused, fingers moved along the wooden pieces. His insides flipped at the man's expression – reminiscent and plaintive. It made Harry look utterly _human_ and vulnerable. But the expression disappeared as Harry flashed Sirius an excited grin.

"Well, you'll be quite busy with this one for the next couple of days."

And he indeed was.

Sirius poured his soul while building the motorcycle. His eyes never missing a single word on the instruction and inputting his utmost concentration, Sirius spent his days on his dear motorcycle. After Sirius panicked when his cast a sticking charm on one of the pieces and entire pieces on his desk stuck together in one mess, Harry got him a muggle glue.

"And you call me a Quidditch fanatic." James only helplessly shook his head at Sirius' obsession, which Sirius preferred to call it a hobby or enjoyment.

"Shut up," said Sirius fleetingly as he scrunched his eyebrows in concentration. The wheels were quite stable and this piece should be able to go … there!

"Remind me why we are talking through the mirror when you are not even sparing a glance at me?" James whined.

"So you could marvel at my finesse and meticulousness, deerest."

James made a gagging sound and narrowed his eyes as he picked up on Sirius' so called 'puns.' "I'm going to go practice Quidditch."

Sirius didn't even bother to say goodbye.

Of course James had to be dramatic.

He wailed. "You changed! You changed after meeting that mutant circle – "

"Motorcycle," Sirius corrected, rolling his eyes. He paused. This argument sounded awfully familiar. Oh. It was what Sirius said to James when James was fawning over the new broom. Ha.

"Whatever! You could marry the bloody thing –"

"And you could marry your broomstick."

"I bloody will!" James shouted.

And then silence.

Sirius sighed in relief and went back to building the model.

* * *

><p>Lucretia was enjoying her afternoon tea time alone with her daughter Cassi at the patio when Irma approached her. She instantly grew suspicious.<p>

"Lucretia, dear," Irma beckoned her with grave expression. "We need to talk."

By the look in Irma's eyes, it seemed to be a family matter. But Lucretia frowned as she couldn't recall any recent incidents calling for such family discussion.

"Let me fire call Harry to look after Cassi while we talk," said Lucretia, already turning toward the fire place. Then she stopped as she realised she didn't know where Harry lived. Lucretia was about to ask her nephews and nieces when the fire place blazed and a man's face appeared above the fire, smiling sheepishly.

"Er, hullo, Lucretia." Harry scratched the back of his head, still looking nervous.

"Ah, Harry, I was about to Floo you."

Harry looked surprised. "Really? Did something happen?"

"No, I wanted to ask you if you could give an extra lesson to Cassi right now. We have a family … matter that needs to be discussed."

"Oh, no-children-allowed-matters, then?" Harry quirked his eyebrow. Lucretia shrugged. She didn't know what Irma wanted to fuss over — yet.

"Why were you Flooing in the first place?" asked Lucretia. It seemed that Harry suddenly found the hem of his robe interesting.

"I was going to ask you if I could use the Black library," Harry replied, appearing uncomfortable. Lucretia waved him off. "Harry, you should stop feeling awkward or sorry every time you ask that. You're always welcome to the Blacks."

Harry smiled gratefully.

* * *

><p>After seeing Harry emerge out of the fireplace and sweeping Cassi into an exuberant hug, Lucretia smiled fondly at the sight and ushered them out to the gardens. Cassi gave her a quizzical look but Harry soon distracted her by pointing out the magical plants in the garden.<p>

Lucretia waved at them and headed to the Black family room.

Everyone was eyeing Lucretia nervously, though she didn't know why. Yet. Was this 'family discussion' about her?

"Alright now, stop rolling your eyes as if you don't know what to do with them. Spit it out. What is it?" asked Lucretia, irritated with these side glances among them.

"It's about Cassi," started Irma. Her hawk-like eyes bore into Lucretia coldly.

"Cassi?" Lucretia said sharply, straightening herself. Her eyes narrowed. "What about her?" she growled protectively. People around her flinched at the ferociousness of her tone. Irma nudged Arcturus and Pollux as if silently urging them to do the dirty work. Lucretia's father, Arcturus coughed twice. Pollux suddenly fidgeted, cleaning his spectacles.

Uncomfortable silence descended.

There were rustling of clothes, shifting of feet, light clinking of ornaments, and occasional coughing, but not one person spoke out loud. Finally, Lucretia's patience snapped.

"_What about Cassi?"_ Lucretia gritted through her clenched teeth.

Still no answer, only eyes nervously darting away from her piercing gaze.

"Tell me!" Lucretia snapped.

"No need to shout, Lucretia," Arcturus scolded, adopting a stern look.

"Apparently I need to, since no one is saying anything about what's going on! You only mentioned Cassi, and as her mother, I demand to know what about her did it prompt this ridiculous meeting!"

Pollux opened his mouth, but closed again. He was always the one to break under the silent pressure around him. Specifically under Irma's silent pressure. Lucretia had once wondered if the Blacks really approved the marriage between Pollux and Irma when Irma evidently had the dominance in the relationship, with Blacks being proud fools and all.

Pollux cleared his throat.

"We… suspect that Cassi might be a squib," he said, articulating each word carefully.

_What?_

"What?" Lucretia chuckled lowly at the ridiculousness. It was preposterous. Cassi, a squib?

This was bound to be a joke Sirius and Andromeda had devised together, trying to make up for their failed attempt on last April Fool's day.

But the serious faces before her told her otherwise.

"You're barking mad, right?" she asked in dry amusement.

Her father hissed, "Language, Lucretia."

She ignored him. "Based on what evidence?" Lucretia asked stiffly.

"There is plenty of evidence. Not a single accidental magic till now, for one," said Pollux pointedly.

She never had an ounce of doubt that her daughter might be a squib. Lucretia simply thought Cassi was a bit slow to exhibit accidental magic. Her father's death had quite an impact on Cassi. And Cassi was a calm, mature child. Lucretia thought it obvious that Cassi was even less likely to perform atrocious accidental magic like Sirius had when he was a child. So Lucretia hadn't worried about Cassi at all.

Arcturus cleared his throat. "Maybe she just needs a little push?" he said in a hopeful tone. "You know, catch her off guard, like pushing her off the stairs, or …"

Lucretia cut him off. "I — will — not take such chances," she hissed. If, IF, Cassi was indeed a squib, then she would die from those 'catch her off guard tactics'. She wouldn't risk that — of course Lucretia would protect her with her magic. But she was not willing to risk her daughter's life in order to see if she was indeed magical or not. She didn't care about magical abilities —

Then Lucretia realised that regardless of being a squib or not, Cassi was still her daughter, an apple of her eye, a child that made Lucretia proud even without magical abilities. Lucretia never thought she would one day change her opinion towards the types of people she despised, much less than have a daughter who was suspected of being a squib.

"See, darling?" Irma's sugary, patronizing tone was sickening. "You too have doubts regarding Cassi's magical ability," said Irma, eyeing Lucretia with such feigned sympathy that sickened Lucretia to no end.

"So?" Lucretia eyed her relatives coldly.

"This is a grave situation. A wizard is defined by the power he possess." said Irma coldly. "I'm not expecting magical capacity as great as Sirius' from Cassi but none at all is unbelievable … and unacceptable."

Bellatrix flinched at the mention of Sirius.

Lucretia paid no heed, too furious to care. "Power is not everything about magical ability! It's the inner strength that defines the person, not external characteristics like magic!" said Lucretia vehemently.

"Magic is external _and _internal power. Magic is not only about performing spells with a wand but also inherent power that defines a wizard or witch. Those with no power is not worth defining, not even worth a glance. The Blacks cannot have a squib in the family! A squib! Powerless, talentless, and _worthless._ It's a shame, a disgrace in the name of Blacks." Disgust dripped from every word Irma uttered.

"Don't you dare call my daughter weak or worthless by your pathetic, close-minded standards!" Lucretia hissed fiercely.

"Lucretia, I won't stand such insolence!" bellowed Arcturus.

"And I won't stand such insult on my daughter!"

"Lucretia — " Arcturus shouted, his eyes bulging with anger.

"If you want to be respected, then you should act more worthy instead of discriminating against a child with your awful judgments," spat Lucretia, her body trembling with raw anger. "She's your _granddaughter_, for Merlin's sake!"

"I will not have a squib for a granddaughter," Arcturus hissed.

"We obviously cannot kill her," Irma stated.

Lucretia saw red. _"Obviously,"_ Lucretia snarled. "You dare think I will let you?" Lucretia whispered menacingly, gripping her wand tightly.

"We weren't seriously considering that option, Lucretia," quipped Walburga. Lucretia doubted it. Walburga's view on muggles and mudbloods was enough to convince Lucretia of her unspoken view on squibs.

"Though we were considering the option of sending her to New Zealand or Australia."

Lucretia was rendered speechless at the suggestion.

"And then you can marry a Yaxley or a Goyle. I don't think the Yaxleys or the Goyles have produced any squibs so far. That is, if they haven't killed them already," Irma laughed. Lucretia felt cold wash down the length of her spine.

Cygnus huffed, his lips curling downward in feigned concern. "We had our doubts about you marrying a Prewett, dear cousin, but we didn't really know then they would turn out to be blood-traitors."

"What if she's not a squib though?"

The Blacks stopped dead and whipped their heads towards Bellatrix. She countered the suspicious gaze with her own cold one.

"What do you mean?" said Druella.

"Last year Sirius gave her his wand and we had a mock duel of sorts. She did manage to get a good shot a few times."

"Why did you never mention this before?"

"You never asked," said Bellatrix coolly.

"But there was absolutely no accidental magic around her for a while."

"Maybe she controls it well," said Lucretia, stubbornly lifting her chin.

"Or maybe she is a squib," Irma jeered.

Bellatrix's eyes flashed. "Are you calling me a liar?" Bellatrix said softly.

Pollux cleared his throat. "I, for one, haven't been able to sense any magic from her."

Pollux claimed he could sense faint buzzing around everyone except muggles and squibs. And from Cassi, he felt none.

"Maybe your little skill diminished with your old age," Lucretia sneered. "And this is my child you all are blabbering about — to which you have no right to."

"Now, now, sister. Cassi is a Black, and thus we all have her best interest at heart," Orion chided. "Perhaps we are fruitlessly arguing without concrete evidence," he said loudly. Lucretia blinked in surprise. Could it be that her brother sided with her and wanted to help?

Orion gained all the Blacks' attention in the room. "I have an acquaintance in Department of Mysteries studying the nature of magic. Perhaps he can help us solve this … conundrum we have among our kin."

Lucretia narrowed her eyes. The look on Orion's face didn't seem to bode too well.

"I will have him bring the apparatus to the Manor in three days," said Orion.

"What does this apparatus you mention specifically do to help us?" asked Lucretia skeptically.

"Help you?" Orion asked, with a look of mock surprise. "Why, dear sister, when have I ever said that it will help _you?_ That remains to be seen." Orion chuckled lowly. "From what I remember he has a machine that would simply … detect whether the person in contact has magic or not."

All the Blacks in the room deemed it useful and adjourned the meeting. Except for Lucretia who silently seethed, her thoughts racing as to how on earth she was to protect her child.

* * *

><p>Bellatrix strode into the room and found Harry immersed in browsing through the Black library with intrigued look.<p>

"Hullo, Bellatrix," said Harry without lifting his eyes from the tome, though the corner of his lips curled into a smile.

"When did you exhibit your first accidental magic?" asked Bellatrix without preamble of greetings.

Harry looked up, startled at the abrupt question. He tilted his head to the side in puzzlement.

"I dunno which one was first but I remember several. When I was nine? Or ten? Er — I turned my teacher's wig blue. And I remember apparating onto the roof."

"How was it?"

"I was confused. I remember my relatives being angry about it. Furious, even."

Funny how their relatives' reactions differed. Cassi's relatives were angry due to the absence of accidental magic whereas Harry's relatives were outraged by the display of it.

"Is something wrong?" His eyes searched her face, clearing noticing the air of distress surrounding her.

She avoided his eyes. "Nothing," she mumbled.

* * *

><p>Lucretia spent the days on edge and she tried to leave the Manor with Cassi but the wards gracelessly bounced her back into her room, forbidding their escape.<p>

Her young nieces and nephews didn't seem to know what was actually going on, except for Bellatrix. They sensed the tense air in the Manor, perhaps noticing cold glares and uncomfortable silence.

She didn't tell Cassi about the meeting, but Cassi also sensed the unease around her relatives and was very reluctant to leave the room, only leaving when necessary.

It was starting to get on her nerves, this silent treatment they were getting for indefinite time. She wanted to have another meeting to clear things out.

Lucretia was about to stump out of her room when a figure blocked her doorway.

"Ah, Lucretia, I'm afraid I can't let you out," said Druella. She tilted her head and examined her fingernails with bored expression, all the while twirling her wand in her right hand.

Lucretia laughed. "On whose orders?" She shot Druella a cold look. "This is the Black Manor, and I am Lucretia Black. You may have forgotten, but just because you birthed Black children doesn't mean you are suddenly born one, Druella _Rosier_." Druella glared daggers at her.

"Now move out of my way when I give you the chance to gracefully step aside with your pretty hair intact."

Druella stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her chin stubbornly. "You can't. The machine arrived."

Lucretia felt her blood turn into ice. Where was Cassi? She exited her room to go to the restroom few minutes ago. She should be heading back to the room by now onto the hallway.

She whipped out her wand, her eyes ablaze. "Where's Cassi," she whispered.

Druella flinched and stopped her wand twirling to grip it tightly into offense position. "Cygnus—!" she hastily called loudly over her shoulder.

Sensing her opportunity, Lucretia quickly uttered a stunning spell, noting Druella's surprised face with momentary glee. She dashed out of her room, her breath hitching as her accursed mind conjured the worst scenario that could have happened to her daughter. _Oh please_, she begged. _Let her be alright_.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Lucretia detected Cygnus advancing towards her.

* * *

><p>"Cassi, dear, don't be shy," crooned Irma in a sickeningly sweet tone.<p>

Cassi was ambushed when she was tiptoeing back to her room by the three most intimidating Blacks in the family.

"No!" Cassi shouted, struggling with all her might. She thrashed her limbs, seeking relief from all this unnerving attention and force.

The _thing_ seemed ominous. It was an enormous metal orb mounted on a silver pedestal. Cassi felt in her guts that if she were to touch it, she would be doomed.

She felt her eyes well up with angry and frightened tears. Where was her mother?

Arcturus, Pollux, and Irma loomed over her, blocking her way to the exit. Her grandfather was more intimidating as ever. His grey hair was flawlessly sleeked back, as was his robe pristine without a trace of wrinkles. He was a man of perfection and did not allow errors. Not even in his family.

Pollux and Irma stood side by side next to the device. The gentle image of Pollux as a gardener and caring for plants in Cassi's mind dissipated like a withered smoke. Irma had always been the icon of terror throughout Cassi's childhood, but her eyes gleaming with twisted excitement made Cassi's knees buckle in fear.

Cassi didn't even realise she was slowly inching away.

"CASSI!"

A shout came from the doorway. It was her mother, Cassi noted with immense relief, all the tension leaving her taut body. Lucretia's usually neat hair in an elegant bun was wildly disheveled, and her eyes were ablaze with frantic worry. Her ragged breath sounded in the room as she quickly assessed the situation.

In that split second, Irma's hand shot out and gripped Cassi's hand and shoved it forward, earning a sharp gasp from Cassi. The apparatus lit up and generated a humming noise. The cold metal surface felt like dissolving the skin on her palm and _burn_. Barely suppressing a sob, Cassi viciously tugged, trying to wrench her hand from the metal surface but Irma didn't budge.

Lucretia let out an outraged cry and was about to storm inside when a spell hit her back. She fell forward with a shocked and betrayed look, but before her body hit the floor, a hand reached out and looped across Lucretia. Orion steadied Lucretia and nodded to Walburga who had fired the stunner.

Seeing her mother unconscious made Cassi's insides tighten with fear and fury. Cassi let out a strangled sound before her knees gave out and collapsed. Irma's grip remained painfully hard. Seconds like eternity passed in silence other than the whirring hum, suspending Cassi on the edge of dread and abject hope.

After what it seemed like ages had passed, the instrument fell silent and the light dimmed into black stillness.

Orion read the parchment with the instructions on how to interpret the results, and lifted his gaze slowly and locked his eyes on Cassi. She froze, dread pooling in her stomach. "There's absolutely no trace of magic in her," Orion announced coldly.

Pollux and Irma shared a smug look, delighted to see their suspicions confirmed.

With a flick of her wand, Walburga woke Lucretia.

With a pained groan, Lucretia winced and her eyes snapped open. Bolting upright as the memories of what happened before she was stunned flooded back into her mind, she whipped her head around and found Cassi. Cassi staggeringly ran to her mother. Lucretia held her daughter tightly. Cassi clutched her hand, her tremors also traveling through Lucretia.

Irma, Arcturus, and Pollux exchanged glances and nodded among themselves.

Pollux summoned three shrunken luggage and velvet pouches which flew into the room and landed in front of Lucretia. One of the pouches spilled open to reveal piles of Galleons inside.

"Sometimes I think we are too merciful," sighed Irma.

Before Lucretia could open her mouth and snarl something in anger, Irma, Arcturus, and Pollux flicked their wands in synchronised movements.

With a sharp CRACK, Lucretia, Cassi, and the luggage disappeared from their sight.

"There," Irma said cheerfully. "That's taken care of."

No one spoke of Cassi and Lucretia again.

* * *

><p>Content edited in June 2014.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

A happy memory.

A _happy_ memory. Was this memory happy enough?

"Expecto Patronum."

Bellatrix slumped in disappointment as a silvery mist flickered from Bellatrix's wand. She weakly smiled as she heard Harry cheer beside her. She wasn't _horrible_ at it, but for the past hours all she could manage was amorphous fog. Nevertheless, it was still a progress compared to the first day Harry taught her some Light magic.

Bellatrix involuntarily shuddered, twitching as she tried to evade the seductive whisper of Dark Arts haunting her.

Squaring her shoulders, Bellatrix turned towards Harry. "Show me your Patronus again."

Harry obliged. "Expecto Patronum."

Although this wasn't the first time she saw Harry's patronus, it never failed her to marvel at its beauty as a majestic stag gently trotted around Harry. It was so … _bright_. Just looking at it was like lounging under the warmth of sunlight.

Harry affectionately brushed his hand against the stag and chuckled softly as the stag attempted to nuzzle.

Bellatrix wondered what her Patronus was shaped like. Which animal would it be? Would she like what she would see?

"I haven't seen Lucretia or Cassi lately. Did they go somewhere?"

Bellatrix felt her throat constrict. She nervously cleared her throat and schooled her features. "They went to New Zealand. They'll be there … for quite a while."

The door of the practice room burst open, and Sirius rushed in with an armful of some things that Bellatrix recognised as new prank goods. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Bellatrix and Harry.

"Oh, if you're doing your usual Dark magic whatnot … uhm … I was on my way out," Sirius trailed off as he slowly inched backwards.

"We're actually practicing Patronus Charm. You know, the one to repel Dementors?" Harry explained.

Sirius raised his eyebrow in curiosity and suspicion. "Really?" He eyed Bellatrix as if to ask, _"You? Light magic? Has the world gone mad?" _Bellatrix stiffened in indignation.

Then she smiled sweetly. "You should join us, Sirius," she purred. "It is a useful spell to learn. Harry can teach you the logistics of it. Right, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

Oh this would be good. She would show Sirius how much she has improved regarding Light magic. It took her days to produce some mist from her wand, and Sirius wouldn't be able to do it in one go.

_I am much better and more powerful compared to you, Sirius, _she snarled inwardly as she intently eyed Harry and Sirius.

"So you think of a happy memory and recite the incantation?" Sirius asked as he shifted his stance, readying himself.

"Yes," said Harry and Bellatrix in unison.

Sirius closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Then he opened his eyes and smiled.

"Expecto Patronum."

Slowly, but surely, strands of silvery mist flowed out of Sirius' wand and began to form a very visible four-legged figure.

Bellatrix stayed rooted and gaped in shock

_Impossible._

Yet, there it was. Even though it was a bit unstable, it was indeed some sort of animal shaped, and the animal rolled around before dissipating.

Sirius beamed in response. "Oh, wow! What do you think its shape was?" he asked in delight. Both Sirius and Harry started to guess which animal it was judging by its form. But none of that reached Bellatrix's ears.

_How? _No. _Why? Why!_

Bellatrix silently seethed while Sirius kept practicing the spell with Harry's encouragement.

Always. Always.. Always, Sirius Black… !

'You're so talented, Sirius.'

'Accidental magic at this age? That's even earlier than Bella!'

'A proper Black heir, so apt in magic.'

Irma's words echoed. 'A wizard is defined by the _power_ he possesses.'

First-year Sirius correcting her spells and wand movements. 'No, no, no, that's not the way you do it, silly. It's like this.' Casting a charm she had been struggling with such an ease.

Second-year Sirius advancing through levels of magic just by reading _her_ textbooks.

Professors praising him. 'Of course all the Blacks are talented, but Sirius Black — he is _gifted_.'

Bellatrix barely registered Sirius leaving the room.

"Bellatrix?" Harry called softly, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away from Harry. "I told you I was better at Dark magic," she snapped, her tone acerbic.

His face softened, but she loathed Harry pitying her.

"Patronus charm is a very advanced magic," he tried to appease.

"Sirius managed to do it. In a day."

"I think it's the matter of the magnitude of happiness."

She scoffed. "Are you saying the cherished boy of the Black family has more happy memories than I do? What a surprise!"

"What do you usually think about when you're casting Patronus?"

She clamped her mouth shut. She could feel Harry's patient gaze, waiting for her to tell him. No.

Silence continued.

Harry sighed. "Why don't we go outside and practice hitting targets while flying on broom?"

She gladly agreed.

Harry headed outside to install the targets on the field, while Bellatrix headed to the storage room to get the brooms. Her mind still absent from rummaging through her memories to find more powerful happy memory, she almost didn't see Sirius' door open. Bellatrix sauntered and passed by the room, but halted after few steps. She turned around and went back to peer into Sirius' room. What caught her eyes wasn't the usual Quidditch posters, hideous red and yellow color combination, messy shelves with books tilted sideways and books tucked in disorderly manner, or disheveled clothes on the floor. It was of a peculiar shape, almost like a bicycle.

The thing _screamed_ muggle.

A cool smile formed on her lips, and she felt a surge of thrill shooting down her spine.

"Kreacher!"

* * *

><p>Regulus was walking towards his room when he saw in distance Bellatrix talking to Kreacher.<p>

_Bella doesn't usually interact with house elves_, he thought in confusion. Especially Kreacher.

Hm. Maybe Kreacher messed up Bella's robes or something.

Regulus dismissed it out of his mind.

* * *

><p>Sirius should have remembered once he saw Kreacher snooping in his room that it would only bring disaster. But unfortunately he hadn't. And Regulus had the audacity to condemn Sirius for his hatred towards Kreacher.<p>

"What is this pathetic Muggle contraption, Sirius?"

Sirius froze on his room's doorway at the sight of his father holding up the fragile motorcycle model. His mother also stood nearby his father, distastefully eyeing the Gryffindor decoration on his walls, her lips drawn downward in repugnance.

Sirius swallowed, his eyes downcast. "It's a motorcycle."

His parents' eyes flashed in disgust at the muggle word.

"We shouldn't have let you visit the Potters. That wretched Muggle-loving family and Gryffindor house ruined you."

Each word felt like a Slashing curse aimed at his heart, and Sirius tried to conjure an emotional Protego, if there was even one.

"Why is this rubbish even here, here in all places? A muggle filth in the Noble House of Blacks?"

"I have it because I like it," Sirius said between his clenched teeth.

His father let out a derisive laugh. "I am … _amazed_ by how your actions can further disappoint my lowest expectations."

His mother muttered under her breath, "shame of my flesh."

Sirius winced despite readying himself for sharp comments, but anger built up insides at the same time.

"What is it that we are doing wrong?" his father muttered under his breath.

"It's not _us_. It's him. And the environment he is exposed to at Hogwarts. We can't expect him to be around _civilised_ people when he's in Gryffindor, of all Houses. It's full of delusional fools."

"Gryffindors are not delusional fools. Don't blame –"

"Bunch of savages, filth, scums – " his mother hissed. "We should have transferred him to Durmstrang the moment he got sorted to that House."

"Can you not hear me?" Sirius yelled, stomping his foot in frustration.

"No, you listen to me," his mother growled, thrusting her finger in Sirius' face. "I had enough of your rubbish about mudbloods –,"

It was Sirius who had enough.

"NO! I'm tired of listening to your bigoted ideals! I have my own opinions and I can think whatever I want to think! You think this is worthless? I don't! You think Muggleborns are beneath us? I don't! You think Gryffindor House is full of worthless scums? It's more of a home than this pathetic, gloomy, crappy place you call HOME!" He shouted. "Stop saying I'm a disappointment, because I don't _care_ if I disappoint you. I used to." Sirius swallowed. Oh how much he used to care, how much he feared disappointing his parents. How he yearned for the warm approval and smile that he used to see when he was a child whenever he displayed complex accidental magic.

That was in the past.

"But now I don't… I _don't_! I have my own thoughts and principles that clearly differ from your messed-up morality! Stop enforcing your beliefs on me and just LET – ME – BE!" Just as he poured his soul onto the motorcycle, he screamed out his soul through these words. His breath ragged, he glared at his parents.

Sirius' face snapped sideways with a sickening slap. Sirius stared at the floor with wide eyes, his cheek burning with hurt and shock. His body taut and frozen, Sirius didn't dare move or breathe as his heart hammered wildly like a frightened bird.

"You're proud of being a muggle-loving cretin and a Gryffindor?" His mother spat out each word in contempt and dark fury. "You have your own _opinions_, you said. You think mudbloods are equal to us, that this filth —" she thrust the model in air "is equally worthy of our consideration?

Do you even hear what they say about the eldest son of the Blacks? They say Sirius Black is barking mad! He's gone _muggle!_ The Black madness got to his head and now he's talking rubbish, consorting with scums and filthy bloods!

While we keep trying to uphold our prestige, you humiliate us with these useless things!" She shrieked. His mother snatched the motorcycle model Sirius had been working on for days and nights with joy, and slammed it on the floor, shattering it into pieces.

"NO!" Sirius gasped and lunged at the remnants in desperation, but his father grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back. Sirius staggered backwards, harshly landing on his bottom. His heart sank at the sight of his mother whipping out her wand. Sirius quickly scrambled to his feet, fearing the worst, and clung to his mother's waist to stop him with a sobbing "No!"

Unencumbered, his mother bellowed "_Confringo!_" and his father shielded his face as splinters and flame sparks flew across the room.

Only his mother's ragged breathing filled the silence. Sirius untangled himself and limply stood on the spot, his eyes wide in disbelief. He didn't look up when his parents gave him a deathly glare, just staring at the spot where the motorcycle once stood. Only a sizzling smoke and pieces burnt beyond oblivion.

His mother stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His father threw a reproachful glance at him and followed after his mother. Muffled, upset voices of his parents died away.

Left alone, Sirius stared down at the shattered and seared motorcycle model. Pieces were scattered across the floor, some crooked beyond repair and others split apart and soot-black. Sirius crouched down, his legs slightly trembling from shock. He extended also shaking arm and slowly gathered the pieces around him.

He reached for his wand and took it out. Forcing his hand to stop trembling, he meekly whispered "_Reparo_" in a futile attempt. Nothing.

"_Reparo_," Sirius said in a firmer voice he could manage.

Still no effect. How feeble it was. That it could be broken so easily. No inherent protection charm cast like toys sold in Diagon Alley.

His hands limply fell to his sides. He involuntarily shivered. Sirius felt completely alone, even though he shared this big manor with several people. He swung his arm around himself, feeling bereft.

Sirius didn't think he had grown up much from the 11-year-old child who came back home for Christmas holiday to find his family sighing in disappointment and anger at his every behavior and jubilant comment about how great Gryffindor house was. It still hurt. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how much he tried to disregard them, reminding himself of his friends, of his other family, it still hurt like a fresh wound. So much for not caring what they thought, he snorted inwardly.

He would be lying if he said he hadn't contemplated suicide to torment his family. It was a deeply buried desire to return the dagger digging into his heart — perhaps if he died, his parents would mourn and regret all their words and actions and _beg_ with their hearts crying out, wishing they treated him better when he was still alive. But deep in his heart, he was faced with the uncomfortable truth that his family wouldn't care. They might disguise it as an accident and be glad to be rid of the black sheep of the Black family. They wouldn't redeem or regret.

When he collected all the pieces, or the remains of them, Sirius conjured up a pouch and gently poured them into it. He cast some basic wards on the pouch – protective ward, secrecy ward … Sirius stopped.

He clutched the pouch, uncontrollable emotion boiling in his chest, and attempted to throw it out the window. His arm trembled as the muscles moved to throw, to discard, to abandon what he wanted, what he valued. But his arm sagged and Sirius collapsed on his bed. His body shook violently while he held the pouch close to his heart. A suppressed sob threatened to escape.

He crawled onto his bed. Sirius curled up into a ball like a wounded animal. He blindly reached for the mirror, not completely conscious of his action. He felt the cold surface of the mirror on his palm, so cold – Sirius shivered. He clutched the mirror and held it tight against his shaking chest.

The mirror slightly vibrated and warmed up in response to the activation.

"Padfoot?" asked James in an alarmed voice.

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat. "James," Sirius chocked out. "I, I —"

He shut his eyes and buried his face on the pillow, a muffled sob finally escaping him. James' frantic voice rang against his ear.

"Padfoot! What's wrong?" James' voice was laced with panic and concern.

Sirius didn't reply.

"Padfoot! Dammit, answer me, Sirius!" James pleaded.

Sirius shifted his head and whispered, "I can't stand it anymore, Prongs. I can't —"

His body was shaking with unadulterated fury, frustration, and despair. Suppressed tears oozed out of his eyes like blood from protracted wound.

James was silent for a moment, then gasped when he spotted the red hand mark on Sirius' face. Sirius hid his bruised face further into the pillow, strands of hair falling on his face. His ragged breathing echoed in the room.

"Sirius." James' tone was firm and solemn. "I'm going to your house, alright? I had enough of that house abusing you. You start packing, Sirius."

Sirius lifted his head. "James, what — " he rasped. He cleared his throat. "James, don't be ridiculous. You can't come inside the manor unless the Heads of the house permits it. And Arcturus and Irma hate you, Prongs."

James didn't even falter at that. His eyes were blazing with worry and anger. "I don't care, Padfoot! I don't care!" James shouted. "I'm not going to stay here on the other side of the mirror watching you get beaten up! If I have to bombard the ward with thousands of dungbombs to get in, then I will! If I have to break through the Floo, then I bloody will! Don't you_ ever_ dare to think if your grandfather or wards can stop me seeing you," James all but snarled.

Sirius couldn't help but chuckle at James' resolution. This was the boy who wanted to turn into Animagus when he found out his friend was a werewolf. Feeling warmth in his heart, Sirius muttered, "I don't want to go outside and see a thick wall of dung in the morning, James."

"Stop joking around, Padfoot! Be serious for once!" James said in frustration.

"You did not say that, mate," said Sirius slowly. "Your puns are so bad they're bordering ridiculousness of ol' Dumble's nickers."

James froze for a moment and glared at Sirius intently.

"Don't think jesting will make me forget or discourage me from invading your house, Padfoot."

Sirius sighed. "No, I didn't think so," Sirius said quietly.

They stayed silent.

"So," started James slowly. "You calmed down? Want to talk about it?"

Sirius snorted. "Don't go all Hufflepuff on me, Prongs."

James pursed his lips.

Sighing, he said, "Mum found out the model and had a fit."

The mirror shook as James bellowed "WHAT?" His face flustered in fury. "Just for the motorcycle she hit you?"

Sirius stared at James oddly. "You know what my family is like, Prongs. It's not too alarming in hindsight, actually. I don't know what brought my guard down, letting the model just sit there where anyone can see." Sirius felt a lump rise in his throat as his mind was instantly filled with regret. Why didn't he put it somewhere safe? Why? If he had, oh, if only he had done that … Why hadn't he?

"Your parents are — " James started and clamped his mouth shut. He looked as if he wanted to shout some profanities.

"I know, mate. I know."

"Your family is a piece of —" James stopped and took a deep breath. He let out a growl of frustration.

After he grumbled something under his breath, James blurted, "I'm going to send you a birthday invitation. And you can't refuse. Your parents have to let you visit me."

Sirius could see where this was leading to.

"James, I know your birthday is in March. Even my parents know that."

"Oh." James looked crestfallen. But he still tried. "Who said it was my birthday? It's my — " he faltered. Even Sirius from the other side of the mirror could see the mind gears desperately spinning in James' head to think up a legitimate excuse. "It's my grandfather's cousin's sister's nephew's birthday!"

Sirius let out a breathy laugh. "Right," he deadpanned.

"Yeah." James nodded sheepishly.

"Enough with that rubbish," Sirius scoffed without malice. "I already visited you once not a while ago. It's unlikely of them to allow me to visit you again whatever the reason."

They lapsed into silence.

Sirius sighed, uncomfortable seeing James wearing a guilt-stricken, miserable face. "Just promise me that you'll have a room reserved for me at your home someday, Prongs."

"Of course, Padfoot, of course" James said earnestly. "There always has been a room for you ever since you got placed into Gryffindor House."

"So …" Sirius trailed off, trying to come up with a topic that would get James' mind off his family. "Have you thought about how to use Remus' prefect badge for our cause?"

Not an excited rant about his plan or a teasing remark about Remus like Sirius expected in response, but a bittersweet smile was all he got from James.

* * *

><p>The Black Manor was big enough for every Blacks to enjoy their own privacy but the walls were not thick enough for Regulus to be totally ignorant of what transpired between his parents and Sirius. After the deadly silence when his parents went into their own rooms, Regulus could also hear muffled outbursts about what to do about Sirius and how distressed they were.<p>

Regulus still remembered how perturbed his parents were as early as Sirius' first year about what kind of influence Gryffindor House would have on their precious, gifted child. His parents would sit by Regulus' bed every night to tell him that he is a proud son of the noble Black family after Sirius sent them a letter filled with all the new friends he made in Gryffindor including halfbloods and muggleborns. He would fall asleep to his mother gently brushing away his hair from his forehead with soft, murmured, "My dear Regulus, our sweet son… you would not make your mum and dad sad like Sirius, would you?" His father would call Kreacher to leave one dim light on because he knew Regulus was scared of the dark.

It distressed Regulus whenever his parents and Sirius got into heated arguments. As much as he held onto the memories of his parents' gentle lullaby from his childhood, he also held onto the memories with Sirius sledding down Black Manor's grand staircase with a sled Uncle Alphard gave them for Christmas and Sirius pranking other children when they made fun of Regulus for being so short. Nonetheless, recent arguments seemed like Sirius purposely tormenting his parents in a fit of adolescent rebellious state urged on by his friends like pompous James Potter.

Sirius took a long walk in the forest behind the Black Manor to get things off his mind and spend as little time in the Manor as possible. He headed back to his room. Sirius turned the doorknob and swung the door open, only to see Kreacher in his room who was hastily feigning innocence with overly large eyes.

"What are you up to?" said Sirius coldly, eyeing Kreacher with distaste.

Kreacher bowed till his nose reached the floor, his rag of clothe practically dusting his surroundings.

"Kreacher is cleaning," said the elf, evasively wiping Sirius' floor with his clothes. Sirius caught him casting a disdainful glance towards the Gryffindor flag and the pictures of his friends around it. He felt immense loathing build up in his chest.

"Get out of my room," he grounded out. "NOW!"

Sirius grabbed Kreacher by the neck and roughly yanked him out the door, swinging the house elf down the hallway. He scowled to himself, holding up his hand in disgust. He wanted to wash the grease off his hand for touching the vile thing and scrunched his face. Sirius breathed deeply in and out, trying to calm the usual fury that built up in his chest whenever he caught Kreacher in his room.

The door next to his room swung open and Regulus poked his head out. His eyes widened as he took in Kreacher sprawled out on the floor.

"Kreacher!" Regulus cried and rushed to his side, propping the house elf up. "What did you do that for?" Regulus shot him a nasty glare.

"Your precious Kreacher was snooping in my room and tattled on our parents," Sirius spat. "That filthy nuisance can't keep his beak of a nose out of other people's business —"

"Don't call Kreacher that —"

All the while Kreacher muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for Sirius to hear, "How my Mistress and Master allow Master Sirius to still live in this house, Kreacher doesn't know — oh my poor Mistress and Master, having a nasty ungrateful swine as a son breaking their heart—" Kreacher bemoaned.

"What, poor, deranged mummy and daddy too delicate to handle common sense?" said Sirius in a mocking voice, glowering at Kreacher with ferocious hatred. He took a menacing step forward. Kreacher cowered, letting out a shrill cry, and disappeared with a Pop.

"Don't talk about our parents like that!" Regulus snapped, straightening to stare straight into Sirius' eyes.

"Well, they're our parents so I can say whatever I want about them!" Sirius growled, stepping closer to Regulus till they were only inches apart.

"Stop trying to hoard their attention with all this unnecessary hassle, Sirius."

Sirius stopped dead and gaped in disbelief. "What — you think I'm doing all this just to get their _bloody attention_?" Sirius tilted his head back let out a bitter, almost deranged laughter.

Sirius' laughter seemed to mock Regulus. It delve into Regulus' insides like a knife.

"You have everything!" Regulus shouted, feeling his pent-up anger wrangling inside him like a thrashing snake, causing Sirius to step back in shock.

"Mum and Dad are always occupied with what you do! They never have time or the mind to —" _care about me_, "— think about other things!"

"I don't want their attention," Sirius snapped. "You can have it all. _I don't want any_."

Stung, Regulus balled his hands into fists. "Can't you see that your words and actions are hurting them?" _And me?_

Some other days Sirius could have ignored Regulus' comment, but on that day, he could still feel his mother's hand on his cheek like it was branded with a hot iron. At the accusing look in Regulus' eyes, Sirius saw red.

"MY WORDS AND ACTIONS?" Sirius bellowed in outrage.

Sirius dispelled the glamour he cast on his face to hide the ugly bruise from the other day. Seeing Regulus' eyes widen with shock, Sirius felt a twisted satisfaction at how Regulus' face turned deathly pale at the sight of mixture of purple, blue, and nasty yellow shade on his cheek.

"You think they're the ones hurt? No, you think they're even _hurt?_ They don't care enough about me to get hurt. I'm only a disgrace and shame of the _noble_ Black family," Sirius spat out the words viciously. "They're just annoyed and ashamed of me because I'm not like them, because I'm not like _you_."

Then everything came pouring out.

"Whenever I do something they don't like, they always blame it on me being a Gryffindor. 'Oh Sirius, you wouldn't have done this if you weren't in that wretched house, oh Sirius why do you have to disagree with us so many times, you wouldn't be like that if you were in Slytherin, that Gryffindor house ruined you, why are you not in Slytherin like Regulus and everyone else?' all that rubbish" Sirius spat, lowering his voice to imitate his grim father and doing the opposite for his shrieking mother.

"They don't seem to realise, or rather, don't want to acknowledge that I'm bloody well suited for Gryffindor, which is probably the reason I was sorted there! It's not the Gryffindor house that changed me; it's about who I truly am! Sure, my friends and housemates have influenced me to some extent, but they're not the only factors in my life that determine me! They think I'm confounded or something. Why can't they accept that maybe I reached my own conclusions after thinking about the matter, rather than have my housemates manipulate my thoughts?

"I'm not just their eldest son Sirius or unfortunate case of the Blacks who should've gone to Slytherin but for whatever pathetic reason ended up in Gryffindor. I'm me! Just because I'm their son doesn't mean I have to have the same beliefs as they do!

They don't see me as just Sirius; they only see their deranged, infuriating Gryffindor son." Sirius felt angry tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sure even you think of me as a failure of a brother who's a Gryffindor, not Sirius who used to be an amazing brother to you." Sirius muttered under his breath in misery.

Regulus felt his stomach wrench at Sirius' self-deprecating tone. His always confident and proud brother Sirius now all crumpled up at the pressure and push and pull.

Oh how ironic it was. While Regulus was wilting away because of their parents' pressure and his own to be as talented as Sirius, Sirius was also crumbling because of their parents' pressure and the whole family's demand for him to be more like Regulus.

He opened his mouth – and closed again. Finally he whispered, "No."

Sirius slowly lifted his head up and stared at Regulus. "What?" he whispered.

"No, I don't think you're a failure," Regulus said firmly. "I don't understand you at times. Sometimes there are things you've done I wish you handled differently, but … I think I can respect that now. And you're not pathetic. I still think you're a bit annoying sometimes but you're still my brother."

Regulus sighed and searched the words with difficulty. "I was jealous of you. I always felt overshadowed by you, Sirius. I thought you were intentionally rebelling against our family to … get their attention. And take everything away from me."

"I wasn't," said Sirius softly.

"I know," Regulus replied. _I know now._

There was still much left unsaid — remnants of years of grudge and envy like tangled thorns bound them but this conversation was the first step and would not be the last. Sirius and Regulus sensed the opportunity to slowly tend to their own wounds inflicted by each other and themselves.

Sirius weakly smiled. "I wish they would understand too," he said glumly.

"They're good parents," Regulus whispered after a pause. Sirius snorted.

"Keep telling yourself that, baby brother," said Sirius. "They're abusive," Sirius gritted out. "They may have been good parents when they read bedtime stories when we were children, but now —" He bit his lip. "It's suffocating to be around them. Knowing that they have turned their heads against what I believe and want … I don't want to stare at the back of their heads anymore. I want to see the faces that make me happy."

There was a pause. "I just want to make them happy," said Regulus reluctantly, eyes downward.

"Yes, of course you do. They've been practically whispering in your ear to make them happy and proud like a proper Black since you were born." Sirius sighed. "But what about you? Don't you want to make _yourself_ happy?"

"That's what I want, making our parents proud," Regulus insisted.

"Regulus, please." Sirius sighed. "It's time that you define your happiness on your own terms, without our parents' expectations, without our family's values, without our family name."

Regulus looked up to stare into Sirius' eyes. It felt like they were children again. "Is that what you're doing? Even if it's defying our parents' expectations and hurting their feelings?"

Sirius gazed into the distance. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to do," said Sirius after a moment.

Many forms of affection and love existed, and Sirius was trying to learn to live without his parents' approval or affection. It was a slow, long drawn out process, but his friends were there for him. And Mrs. Potter and Mr. Potter to be his parents and home away from home.

Sirius regarded his brother with soft gaze. Did Regulus have someone? Sirius took in Regulus' hunched form.

If not, he would be there for Regulus.

* * *

><p>With only a week left until the school starts, Harry vanished. It is not to say Harry actually vanished without a word. He told the young Blacks that he taught what they wanted to learn from him respectively a while ago and had been dropping by every once in a while to chat with everyone.<p>

But it stopped.

The Blacks had nothing to lose by the absence of Harry Carrow. Academically. Sirius was now able to transform easily into and out of his Animagus form at will and he was helping James and Peter how to transform back without having antlers or whiskers. Regulus wouldn't say he was a master of Potions like Severus Snape but more advanced than his peers and he was now more at ease with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Narcissa was able to understand the fundamental theories and concepts behind Transfiguration and Charms and was trying to invent her own spells with help of Andromeda. As for Bellatrix, everyone knew her dueling skills were unsurpassed but now she could wield not only Dark magic but also Light magic to her advantage, broadening the spectrum of tactics and skills she could use. However, they weren't missing Harry just for the academic gains but more for his company.

"I can't believe he would just… go away. Do you think something happened? So many wizards and witches are going missing nowadays," said Sirius while pacing back and forth wildly in the room.

"Calm your nerves, cousin. That's just mudbloods and blood-traitors. Harry's none of that. And you're acting like an abandoned puppy waiting for its master to come back soon to feed you," said Bellatrix.

"What, so they deserve it, then? If you're a muggleborn or a blood-traitor, it's not a big deal if you go missing, right?" Sirius said sharply.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, unblinking.

Sirius clenched his teeth. Andromeda laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"But do you think he's alright? He would at least tell us if he's going away or can't meet us anymore because he found more important things to do, right?" Regulus asked.

Sirius placed his hand on his chest, taking in a sharp breath with feigned indignation. "What can be more important than meeting the '_noble and most ancient_' house of Black?"

Ignoring him, Regulus continued. "Do we even know where he lives? Can we contact him via Floo or owl?"

"I'm afraid we can't," said Druella as she walked into the room, followed by Cygnus and Walburga like a flock of crows.

Every young Black in the room leapt up to swarm around her. "Have you heard back from Harry yet?"

"No," said Druella coldly. "I don't even know what his Floo address is because he was always the one to call."

"Do you think he's okay?"

Druella, Cygnus, and Walburga stared at the younger Blacks in bemusement.

"Honestly, all this fuss about a mere tutor?" Walburga asked dismissively.

The younger Blacks started to protest. Harry was more than just a tutor to them.

"Didn't you drool over his magical potential just a few weeks ago, Walburga?" drawled a voice from the doorway.

The Blacks gasped. It was Lucretia. She seemed to have aged twenty years in a span of less than a month of absence.

"Not as much as you did," shot Walburga with an ugly smile. "Seeing as your daughter _completely lacks one_."

Lucretia's eyes hardened. She ignored the comment and turned to face the younger Blacks with a strained smile.

"If there is one thing you've learned about Harry this summer is that he's not someone who should be taken lightly, and he can defend himself quite well." When she saw that still didn't dispel worry from their eyes, she continued, "and I don't think Harry would leave without saying a proper goodbye. Let's give him some more time."

"I don't think you can afford to have more time, Lucretia. You have other places to be right now, I presume," said Orion, walking into the room.

"Oh don't presume so readily, brother mine," Lucretia hissed softly.

No one dared voiced out where Cassi was at the moment.

After days of waiting with no news from Harry, new school year began and the Blacks left for Hogwarts.

What they would find in Hogwarts was a familiar face.

End of Part 1.

* * *

><p>Content edited in June 2014.<p>

A/N:

On with the Part 2.

But I must warn you, Part 2 will be quite nothing like Part 1. Chapter 10, maybe, but from Chapter 11, it will get much darker, and many of you may not like the direction.


	10. Part 2: Chapter 1

A/N: Part 1 is edited with _major_ changes with the help of most wondrous beta Ninfea (Without her I would probably have deleted the story out of shame or abandoned the story).

If you haven't read the story since end of May 2014, I ask of you to go over the earlier chapters, since many things in Part 2 will not make sense if you haven't. But if you don't want to bother rereading, the major changes are:

Death Eaters, not the Order, attacked Cassi and Lucretia. (chapter 1)

The Blacks discover Cassi is a squib and cast Cassi and Lucretia out of the country. (Chapter 8)

(But I do really hope you read at least those two chapters.)

Warnings: I repeat, this will NOT involve Harry paired up with any of the Blacks. Romance is not particularly the focus of this fic. But there will be mentions of het (Andromeda/Ted. Maybe Narcissa/Lucius), slash, and femslash. There will be violence, but nothing too graphic or gory.

Part 2 will start to feature more of Harry and less of the Blacks' POV, but the younger Blacks won't be going anywhere. They'll be around.

But, I have to warn you, Part 2 will be darker. If Part 1 was more like a character study of the Blacks, Part 2 will be exploring more of the Death Eaters' activity and Harry's role. You may not like the direction where this is going. Or you may like it.

Thank you for reading.

* * *

><p>Part 2<p>

Chapter 1

It was a relief to be back at Hogwarts again. The comfortable noise of people cheerfully chattering with their friends, catching up on the summer absence, filled the Great Hall – so different from the eerie silence of the Black Manor. Sirius basked in the light-hearted atmosphere and the presence of his friends.

Remus was talking to Lily Evans about Prefect duties. Sensing his opportunity, James beckoned Sirius closer, and carefully pulled out something from his pocket. Sirius grabbed James' wrist.

"If this is another scheme of yours to fire a false howler in my face, you'd better think hard who your Potions partner is," Sirius growled.

"Oh Padfoot, is this how much trust you have in me as a friend? That was just one time! I never repeat a prank." James winked. He continued to fish something out … to reveal a Thank You card.

"Remember our donation to the charity that helps werewolves? They sent us a card!" James whispered.

Of course he did remember. He got a kick out of donating significant amount of his family's money to the Society of Werewolf Welfares.

Sirius opened the card and began to read in a low voice.

"Dear Mister …. Snuffles." Sirius looked up and gave James a pointed look.

"What? Oh I'm sure Remus would appreciate us using our real names." James rolled his eyes. "Anonymity, Padfoot!"

"For what?" Remus abruptly leaned in.

James and Sirius yelped in surprise. "Nothing!" Sirius scrambled and shoved the card into his pocket.

Remus eyed them suspiciously and reluctantly turned his back again to continue talking to Evans who was laughing at what Remus said about their upcoming Prefect duties.

James paused at the sight and ruffled up his hair in frustration.

"Oh Merlin. I suspected that tosser fancied Narcissa so I said in passing that she likes long hair." Sirius snickered and pointed to the Slytherin table. James leaned in to get a better view and burst into laughter.

Lucius Malfoy was sporting an impressive mane of platinum blond hair.

"Look at him blush!" said Sirius, laughing.

"Padfoot, are you saying that the wondrous sight before our eyes is your doing?" asked Peter, his eyes hungrily gleaming with anticipation of upcoming humiliation.

"Oh, that's just the beginning," Sirius said, smirking. And he pointed his wand at Malfoy's direction.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Lucius Malfoy liked to think of himself as a calm, collected man who never fumbled around ladies. He had been to many pureblood galas and met his share of ladies – he knew how to appeal himself and charm them.

Ever since his parents mentioned they were thinking of one of the Black sisters as Lucius' potential partner in marriage, he couldn't help but observe them more closely out of curiosity.

Bellatrix was unstable and …. Intimidating, Lucius reluctantly admitted to himself. And he didn't feel a connection with Andromeda.

Narcissa, on the other hand …

Lucius couldn't describe in words the strange alluring attraction that kept pulling him towards her – which began even before his parents mentioned the Black sisters. He was much relieved when they did. Perhaps it started ever since he saw her bravely standing up to other older Gryffindors for her friend and hexing them with ingenious spells that avoided her getting into detention.

From what he knew of her and observed, Narcissa was fiercely loyal to her loved ones – remarkably so. Yet she wasn't a Hufflepuff for she expressed her loyalty in Slytherin ways. Lucius wanted nothing more than having her loyalty and affection, and every time he imagined her fierce protectiveness over him, his heart fluttered and a dreamy sigh escaped him. And he knew she wanted to travel. Oh how wonderful it would be to travel beside her, seeing her eyes fill with wonder as she explored this world.

Lucius nervously cleared his throat, trying to get Narcissa's attention. Which was his fourth time. Even with all the charm he mastered over the last few years, he kept fumbling around Narcissa like an idiot.

Narcissa finally turned around. "Are you alright, Malfoy? You've been making guttural noises this whole time." She looked amused.

For a moment Lucius felt all the suave words he prepared in his head evaporate at the sight of her face. He had certainly seen far more beautiful faces than hers but knowing the kindness in her made her face glow. He was glad that he was sitting or else she would see his knees buckle.

He wanted to ask her how her summer was, why she didn't respond to his letters he spent all night composing, what she did with her family, if she went anywhere, if she would accept a gift he bought in France because it reminded him of her, how her summer went by because his summer was spent wishing the school would start soon for he missed her so much.

"I'm fine. Narcissa, how _—_"

"Narcissa! Did you get Malfoy's letters?" Goyle interrupted with voracious laughter. He thumped Lucius on the back so hard he winced.

"This git spent the whole summer whining to me! He wrote a letter to Andromeda to ask her what you liked and _—_ mmph!"

Lucius quickly covered Goyle's mouth with his both hands, forcing a smile to pretend nothing happened. Ugh was that grease on Goyle's lips? Disgusting. But there was more pressing matter now, and Lucius dearly hoped Narcissa didn't hear Goyle's outburst.

But fate was not on his side.

Andromeda shouted, "As if I'll let you near anywhere my sister, you sleek ferret! Bribery doesn't work on me, Malfoy!"

Lucius gritted his teeth. "That wasn't what you were saying when I said _—_"

"Bugger off!" She cut him off. "You'll need more than those fat bottomed birds to court my sister!"

Lucius gasped in shock and indignation. "Those 'fat bottomed birds' are peacocks, the most graceful and beautiful bird of all birds, and they're on Malfoy family crests! My family shall hear about this, Andromeda."

"Oh shut up, Malfoy," Andromeda snorted.

"So … you wrote to my sister to ask what I liked," Narcissa drawled with a cat like grin.

Lucius froze. So she heard. He swallowed nervously.

What if Narcissa asked why? How was he supposed to answer it? Of course Lucius knew the answer to that question all too well but was he brave enough to actually answer honestly? He wasn't ready yet. He hadn't shown her his merits and appeals enough to successfully court her. The Malfoy's courtship was never rushed or careless. It was a long process that involved emotional commitment. Just like how he fell in love with her, he wanted her to fall in love with him _—_ slowly but surely. But now was not the time to confess his feelings.

He prayed to Merlin for anything to happen to make him avoid the monumental question. Anything!

Lucius felt a breeze passing by. Then suddenly, it seemed that the entire student body erupt into laughter including the staff.

"What _—_ what's going on?" Lucius looked around in utter bafflement. Even Narcissa was openly laughing.

"You _— _you have a lovely hair, Malfoy." She chuckled.

He felt his insides turn into a puddle of goo at her smile. But yes, of course he had a lovely hair. His platinum blond hair was his and his family's pride. And hearing Narcissa liked long hairs he decided to grow it long over the summer. But why was everyone laughing?

Goyle was wiping tears from his eyes and grunting like a pig from laughing too hard. "Here _—_ here you go, mate." Goyle conjured a mirror in front of Lucius.

At the sight before him, Lucius spluttered. "What is this?!" he shrieked.

His hair was braided and tied with pink ribbons to the side like one of those porcelain dolls with ridiculously decorative hair style. He raked his fingers across his hair to pull of the ribbons but they didn't budge. Lucius felt his face heat up in utter mortification as the Great Hall roared with laughter. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

There was a blinding flash and a 'click' sound. Through his squinted eyes, Lucius saw Sirius Black leaping up on the table, not even paying heed to the dishes clattering on the floor. James Potter high fived Sirius Black who took a picture of Lucius' current state. "Two galleons for each shot!" He waved his camera high up in the air.

Lucius seethed and was about to hex Sirius Black into the next century. Lucius reached to snag the atrocious camera out of Black's hand.

McGonagall tapped her goblet with a tea spoon, and every Hogwarts students ceased laughing, although some were stifling their snickering, turned their attention to the podium. Lucius kept tugging his hair in vain.

Dumbledore stood up, his dark navy robe adorned with moving sun and moon whirling about him. He cleared his throat. "There are new faces joining us today and for this school year. May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Ayla Atesh."

A witch next to McGonagall smoothly rose from her seat and bowed. Her skin was as dark as the darkness before the dawn. Students stared in awe at the sight of the bright golden tattoo that resembled flares of the sun covering her right cheek. If a ray of sunlight could drop into the fathomless midnight like ink spreading in water, it would have looked like her tattoo.

"And …" Dumbledore faltered and looked around with a frown.

There was hushed murmur of confusion as students realised the seat next to Madam Pomfrey was empty and the staff was whispering furiously among themselves.

With a loud BANG, the entrance doors swung open and a hooded figure who was soaking wet stormed into the Great Hall. The person pulled the hood back and vigorously shook his head like a dog splattering water to dry itself.

"Sorry for being late — nasty storm out there —"

There were audible gasps from Slytherin table and Gryffindor table as the Blacks recognised the man.

"Harry?!" whispered Bellatrix in alarm and turned to look at her sisters and cousins, raising her eyebrows as if to ask, "Is that person actually Harry or am I delusional?"

Dumbledore sighed in relief at the sight of the man and continued, "… Madam Pomfrey's new assistant, Mister Harry Carrow."

The man bowed as he strode forward. While passing by the Gryffindor table, he winked at Sirius, who was gaping at him like a fish. He sat down next to Madam Pomfrey and greeted others with an apologetic smile for his lateness.

All the Blacks didn't know how the time passed until the feast ended, and while most of the students followed the prefects to their respective Houses, they stayed back and rushed up to Harry. The Blacks swarmed around Harry and barraged him with questions.

"_Where were you?!"_ Bellatrix demanded with a hiss.

"Why didn't you send us any letters?"

"Why did you apply for that position out of all the positions you could have got?"

"So you're staying in Hogwarts with us?" asked Sirius eagerly.

And with that question, all the Blacks fell silent, waiting for Harry's answer with unease. One of the fears dwelling in all of the young Blacks' hearts was they might never see Harry again once tutoring was over when summer ended, which was what seemed to have had happened before they saw Harry now.

"Yes," said Harry. The Blacks beamed. "I'll be keeping my eyes on you, Sirius."

"Pssh. As if that would deter me," Sirius snorted, but smiling nonetheless.

"Can we visit you in the Infirmary some time?" asked Regulus.

Harry nodded, "Of course. Hopefully not because you're sick."

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

News that Harry was the Blacks' tutor for the summer spread like a wildfire and caused a hype of admiration and curiosity in the Hogwarts student body. Many students lingered at the Infirmary entrance hoping to get a glimpse of the previous tutor of the notorious Blacks. Those who witnessed Harry gently murmuring a healing spell or standing next to Madam Pomfrey and whispering soothing words as she was tending to the students with severe injuries from Potions or magical creature incidents — they all swooned.

Harry's popularity was neck to neck with the followers and admirers of the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor, Ayla Atesh; her charisma during demonstrations for spells and defenses, her warm encouragement when students were struggling, earned admiration and respect from the student body. Rumors of Atesh's previous occupation as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries added another layer of enigmatic ambience around her.

Within first few weeks of school, students learned not to underestimate her as a hermit or a scholar stuck inside the Department of Mysteries when a 6th year Slytherin made a jab about how on earth she could manage the practical portion of the class with her thin, weak wrist only used to turn a page in books. She paid no heed to his remark, but only responded with a calm face, hurling a hinkypunk to the floor with her bare hands, clearly showing she wasn't simply an academic.

There were wild speculations on what the tattoo on her face meant — she was marked by a dragon, it was a magical tattoo engraved by the goblins, she was trapping a Fiendfyre in the tattoo, no it was a magical mishap Lumos charm gone wrong so now it glows in the dark — but no one had a clear idea on what it was.

Whenever she was making rounds in the corridors, she looked like a walking fire, her robes dancing like blazing heat.

Bellatrix couldn't help but admire and envy Professor Atesh. Compared to her hot-headedness, which was repeatedly pointed out as a weakness by herself and others, mainly Harry, Atesh's unwavering, calm demeanor was something she wanted to adopt herself.

"You should see her duel, Harry," said Bellatrix with a hungry gleam in her eyes. Harry chuckled as he organised and labeled the medical supplies in the drawers. Antiseptic smell.

Harry had been at Hogwarts for two weeks now and seemed very much in his element, with air of content and peace around him that many students found soothing. Harry did not dress in standard Mediwizard uniform or the male version of the way Madam Pomfrey dressed herself. Instead, Bellatrix often found him wearing a comfortable looking, but quite formal, white long-sleeved shirt with a black tie loose around his neck. His jet black hair was as disheveled as ever, pointing in every direction.

"How so?"

"It's breathtaking." Bellatrix let out a dreamy sigh as she remembered Atesh's graceful stance.

Oh what she would give to see Atesh and Harry duel against or together. Witnessing two predators — their movements agile and lethal— would simply be glorious.

"I have had very few opportunities to have a conversation with her. Perhaps I should talk to her more often."

"You really should," Bellatrix agreed.

They both flinched in surprise as the Infirmary door swung open with two Ravenclaw students rushing in with their shoulders supporting a limp body.

"Madam Pomfrey!" A Ravenclaw girl cried with a panicked hitch.

Harry shot up from his seat and hurried over. "Madam Pomfrey is out assisting another student injured from broomstick accident. What's wrong?" His eyes swept over the body with keen gaze. "Here, settle him on the bed." Harry helped them lay the student.

"Sir — I think he's poisoned!"

"Did he drink or eat something?" asked Harry as he quickly ran the diagnostic spell.

"Nothing out of unusual if I remember. But he's been saying he was feeling out of sorts lately," said the Ravenclaw boy next to him.

Then the body started convulsing violently. The Ravenclaw girl shrieked.

"You!" Harry pointed to the Ravenclaw girl. "You hold his legs down. And you! Hold his arms."

But the Ravenclaw boy was trembling so hard from head to toe and looked like he was about to faint or have a panic attack from seeing his friend in such condition.

Bellatrix rushed over and held down the violently shaking arms. Harry shot her a thankful look.

Harry held the boy's head in his tight grip and flicked his wand. Something rattled in the cabinet and swooshed out, flying into Harry's palm. He pried the boy's mouth open and shoved a bezoar down his throat. Harry murmured a spell that eased the boy's throat to prevent him from choking.

The boy stopped convulsing and sagged. His face which was a shade of purple earlier was regaining its healthy color.

Harry ran the diagnostic spell again. The mist hovering above the boy turned white.

"He just needs to rest for the day."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, sir!"

The girl flung her arms around her friend in relief.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Narcissa paid Harry a visit quite a few times to learn Healing Magic from Harry. That is, after she berated him for not letting her know during summer he was capable of such skills.

"I didn't know you were interested in it," Harry said in his defense.

Narcissa regarded him with her usual indifferent mask. "Of course I'm interested in it. I need to learn first aid magic just in case I get hurt while traveling."

"Most people Apparate to hospitals or nearby clinics."

"Precisely. I want to save time and all the fuss," Narcissa explained as if Harry was a dimwit.

"Ever so efficient," said Harry, shaking his head but smiling.

Despite her protest, Harry insisted on teaching Narcissa the muggle ways of first-aid treatment with bandages and other kits. He was carefully rolling the bandage onto the ankle of a mannequin in cases of sprained ankle when he said in passing, "Heard Malfoy's trying to court you."

Narcissa blinked and narrowed her eyes. "Where and how did you hear that?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh when your job is sitting in the Infirmary with students who can't do much other than talking while they're being treated, you do hear things."

"I see," said Narcissa coolly. "It seems people blabber their mouths and stick their noses in businesses they have nothing to do with."

"People talk — especially students like to gossip. Something about being in the Hospital Wing makes people talk more than usual. But he must be making it quite obvious for others to notice."

Narcissa groaned. "Malfoy is an attention-seeking git. He thrives on people sticking their nose in his business. It doesn't help that Goyle is an atrocious wingman who doesn't seem to know the definition of subtlety."

Harry snickered, but quickly sobered. "If it turns into harassment of any sort —"

Narcissa cut him off. "I can deal with the wimp," she said with a hard look in her eyes. Harry didn't doubt her words. "Besides, pureblood courtships are not like that. Well, it's not supposed to." She sighed. "It's just irritating. He's a conceited, smooth-talking bastard."

"You can always blackmail him with the pictures of him with his hair," Harry pointed out with a wicked smile. "Sirius kindly offered to show me what I missed due to my tardiness that day."

Narcissa snickered at the memory. "That is true. Sirius makes it his life's goal to remind Malfoy of the incident every once in a while. I think he wanted to submit the photo to _Witch Weekly_."

She barely stifled a startled gasp when there was a loud _Pop_ noise beside the infirmary bed next to her.

"Harry Carrow, sir, Hooky has found pomegranate juice in the kitchens, sir!" squealed a house elf holding a glass vial filled with red liquid in his tiny, spidery hands.

Harry beamed at the elf. "Thank you, Hooky. I appreciate your help very much. So will the students who benefit from the potion made with it," said Harry, kneeling down on the floor to take the vial.

Hooky the house elf's eyes watered with happiness and he bounced up and down in glee. "Oh you is welcome, sir! Ask anything sir needs anytime, sir!"

Harry smiled again and this time, to Narcissa's utter shock, held the house elf's tiny, dry leather like hands in a firm handshake. "Thank you for your kind offer. Please tell me if you also need anything."

Narcissa thought Hooky was going to faint from joy.

"Yes, sir, of course sir!"

Harry gave another fond smile and let go. The elf bowed and disappeared with a _Pop_.

"You … thanked a house elf," said Narcissa slowly, her eyes wide. And he knelt in front of it.

Harry placed the vial on his desk and turned to face her, giving her odd looks. "Of course I did. He helped me acquire what I needed. It's natural to express your gratitude to those who helped you, isn't it?"

"Yes, but he's a house elf. It is in their nature to do what they're told. Willingly."

Harry shrugged. "Yes, but he still helped me. No matter what shape or size the helper takes form, you still received help."

It was Narcissa's turn to stare at Harry oddly.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Students were sitting in groups along the tables in the Great Hall, some working on their essays and others doing their own thing. Three weeks in and the classes were picking up their pace in handing out assignments.

"I'm _exhausted_," a Slytherin girl named Lucinda heaved as she swung her leg to sit down beside Bellatrix. Lucinda was the captain of Slytherin Quidditch team, infamous for her quick, but brutal tactics that were deadly effective against other teams. She was aiming for the professional league after she graduated.

"You'd better come to our match, Bella," said Lucinda, nudging Bellatrix with her elbow encased in a leather Quidditch gear.

Bellatrix swatted her away with a lazy wave of her hand. "Of course, of course. Just make sure you're not working my cousin too hard. It's been less than three weeks since we've been back to school."

"Speaking of your cousin, what have you done to him? Did you snatch him away and sequester him in some kind of Quidditch physical boot camp?"

"Why?"

"He's just … so much at _ease_ now on the broom. And he's showing off some wicked moves."

Bellatrix's eyebrows shot up, and she narrowed her eyes at Lucinda.

Seeing Bellatrix's meaningful gaze on her, Lucinda cackled. "That was not an innuendo and you know it. Don't tell me you believe those horrible stories of Slytherin Quidditch orgy after practices?"

Bellatrix scrunched up her face. She wasn't even aware of such stories.

"Now spill the beans, Black. I don't think it was you who whipped Regulus into shape during the summer, seeing as you're hardly enthusiastic about my matches. Was it Andy?"

Oh. Bellatrix remembered how Regulus and Harry used to fly behind the Manor.

"Regulus did fly a lot over the summer," said Bellatrix. "With Carrow."

It was now Lucinda's eyebrows that shot up in surprise. Then she smirked. "I see," she said slowly, her eyes traveled to the staff table.

"Do you think he's married?" Lucinda asked in a cat like drawl.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore," Lucinda replied sarcastically. She rolled her eyes. "The new Mediwizard, of course!"

"Carrow? I don't think I ever saw him with a ring or anything," Bellatrix said with an amused look.

Lucinda and other girls around them leapt up and swarmed around Bellatrix.

"Really? Then do you reckon he's dating someone?" Another Slytherin girl asked in a hopeful tone.

"Never really heard him talk about anyone in that way."

"Ooh you had him as your tutor!" A girl from Ravenclaw giggled. "What was he like?" she asked slyly, blush crawling up her cheeks.

"Must have been hard concentrating, with him explaining things in his voice with those eyes of him staring at you so close," said Davey Gudgeon, batting his eyelashes.

The students around them broke into dreamy sighs. "Those _eyes_."

"I wish my parents found a tutor like him for this summer," Davey grumbled. "I would have had him sign the marriage contract dubbed as tutor contract."

"What's he like, Bellatrix? Narcissa wouldn't tell us a thing and Andromeda keeps laughing at us," said Lucinda, tugging at her robes with an eager look.

Bellatrix shot Narcissa a glare. She merely shrugged and went back to reading her book, _Around the World in 80 Days … But with a Time Turner._

Students around her were huddled close and expectantly eyeing her with rapt curiosity.

"Oh he's …" Bellatrix searched for words. "He's brilliant. I've never seen someone duel like him. He's not just about using archaic and powerful spells but using easy hexes and bending them for his use with ease. It's incredible."

The students nodded enthusiastically, encouraging her to continue.

"He's very compassionate —"

One of the Hufflepuff boys interrupted, "Okay, okay, but what about you and him?"

Bellatrix eyed him coolly. "What about it?"

"Any physical combat? No personal, touchy demonstrations?" He leered. Other students threw him a disgusted and reproachful glance.

"No, in contrary to your vulgar imagination, you imbecile, our relationship was strictly professional," she said coldly.

"I applaud your principle, Black," a Gryffindor boy said admiringly, slowly clapping his hands. "I would have shagged the bloke in the first session if he let me."

His friend smacked him on his arm. "You really should stop trying to get into his pants. I'll be surprised if he hadn't noticed your fake injuries and illness excuses by now."

Bellatrix snorted.

"He's awfully fond of you and your sisters and cousins," said Emma Vanity with a smile. "I've only had a chance to exchange few words with him when I was at the Infirmary so far, but one word about you lot and he starts going off about how wonderful you are for minutes!"

Bellatrix saw Narcissa smile over her book.

"So you'd never date him?" Lucinda asked shrewdly. "Just want to make sure that's all clear."

"Before you make a pass at him?" said her friend sitting beside her. Lucinda ignored her.

Bellatrix shook her head. "No. He's like a friend and mentor to me."

Students around her squealed, much to Bellatrix's confusion. Unknown to Bellatrix, many students who were quite infatuated with the new Mediwizard hadn't dare make a pass at him, fearing Bellatrix's wrath.

Most of the students around them hurried out as they realised they had class soon.

Narcissa remained immersed in her book.

Bellatrix picked up her quill to start her homework.

"Why wouldn't you?"

She lifted her gaze. Narcissa stared back at her.

"Why wouldn't I what?"

"Date Harry. I think you two would make a fine pair. It'll be nice to have him as a family," said Narcissa casually, her gaze returning to the book.

Bellatrix stilled. "Cissy, please don't tell me Mum and Dad are drafting a marriage contract."

"Goodness, no. I think they were thinking about it, though."

She groaned.

"Why though?" The look on Narcissa's face told her she wouldn't let this go so easily.

"Why is this a sudden interest to you? Are _you_ trying to get a marriage contract with Harry?"

Narcissa arched her eyebrow. "No. I think Harry is a fine gentleman, extremely talented and quite good looking, but he's a teacher to me. I would never consider him like that."

"And so do I."

"Are you sure?"

Bellatrix slammed her quill down. "Cissy, I repeatedly told you before we came to Hogwarts and I'm telling you again right now: I think of Harry as a valuable mentor, confidant, and a friend. Even if I were interested — which I'm not — I don't want to risk our relationship with dull things such as _romance_." She scrunched up her face as she said word. She then regarded Narcissa with a contemplative look. "Are you implying that a woman and a man cannot share a deep bond without it being romantic and sexual?"

Narcissa sighed and set her book down on her lap. "No, of course not. But I thought there was some chemistry between you two during the summer."

"Oh anyone would have chemistry with Harry when they have their palms against his and practically dance across the room while staring at his face."

Narcissa's eyes widened.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "We were dueling. It was part of the dueling magic." She went back to her homework. "Understand me when I say my feeling for Harry is a platonic one. Yes, my feelings are quite strong for him but only because I am very fond of him, and I certainly don't think of him romantically or sexually."

Narcissa nodded after a moment. "I understand." She suppressed a disappointed sigh that threatened to escape. All her attempts to set her sister and Harry up …all in vain.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Sirius was quite impressed at his record of managing to not land in Hospital Wing for three weeks since the school started. Of course he visited Harry once in a while for a chat, but this was the first time he visited for medical purposes.

"It hurts, Harry," Sirius whined more than necessary. "It _hurts_. Hold my hand, Prongs," he moaned.

James ignored him, rolling his eyes.

"I know, I know," Harry said soothingly while hovering his wand above Sirius' arm covered with small cuts. The tip of Harry's wand glowed with warm light and gashes on Sirius' arm slowly sealed up. It itched like there were puffskeins crawling on his arm.

"That's what you get for barging in like that," said James pointedly. Sirius glared at him.

"Remus, you must write a eulogy for me. I don't trust these twats to accurately portray the magnificence and the blessing on this earth that is Sirius Black. You must have at least a paragraph dedicated to my beauty."

"And a paragraph of how much a tosser you are," said Peter.

"See? See? This is why you need to write my eulogy."

"I have already mentally composed three paragraphs worth of embarrassing stories that date to our first year, including the curtain incident," said Remus with a smirk.

Sirius paled, while James and Peter doubled over with laughter. "_No_," he breathed, his eyes like saucers.

"_Yes_," Remus drawled.

"But — OW!" Sirius yelped. "What in the bloody hell was that for?"

"You, my friend, have a cracked bone," said Harry calmly as if he was telling him it was sunny.

"It's not a surprise considering the tumble you took," said James, ruffling up Sirius' hair to match his own messy hair, taking advantage of the fact that both of Sirius' hands were bound by magic. Sirius scowled.

"Good thing we came here first," said Remus, shaking his head at the memory of Sirius insisting there was nothing wrong and trying to lift Peter who swatted Sirius' arms away.

James peered at the mediwizard. It was odd to actually see the man Sirius initially fumed over during the summer. Unlike Remus and Peter who only heard Sirius recount the summer and Carrow's tutelage, James had seen the progress of Sirius and Carrow's begrudging relationship take an amiable turn. Fondness and trust in Sirius' eyes made James more intrigued about the man.

Carrow did indeed resemble James quite a bit, though it seemed as if there were deliberate differences like the eyes, the stature, and the general air about them.

The mediwizard searched the drawers and tossed a chocolate frog onto Sirius' lap. "There, you're all set." Sirius brightened. "But drink Skelegrow first."

Sirius grumbled but obediently drank the offered cup, much to Remus' surprise.

Remus could only wonder how this past summer was like but if Sirius' interaction with the man and Regulus was anything to go by, it must have been less aggravating.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Regulus couldn't help but feel unnerved at his friends' curious, wary glances lingering on him.

For the first time since Regulus had been Sorted into Slytherin, Sirius greeted him in the corridors. Amicably. Not with glares or taunts.

After Charms, Regulus was heading to the Great Hall for lunch. He saw Sirius sauntering out of the Great Hall with his friends. James Potter leaned in and whispered into Sirius' ear with a devious grin and Sirius let out a bark of laughter, swinging his arm around Potter's neck and playfully ruffling Potter's mop of hair. Then Sirius faced forward and met Regulus' eyes.

For a moment, Regulus thought with trepidation that the grin on Sirius' face would fade when he saw Regulus like it always did in the past years. That the memory of their reconciliation all but vanishing — the glimpse of his brother, fragile and vulnerable as much as he was, gone — disappearing under Sirius' brash bravado.

But to Regulus' astonishment, Sirius looked at him and without missing a beat …. Smiled. Even waved in a cheerful manner.

And Regulus grinned back at him.

"What's the deal, Black? I thought you weren't talking to that blood traitor," Rookwood sneered.

Regulus flinched at the words. "He's not that bad," he mumbled, torn between his conflicting loyalties.

"Not that bad?" his friend repeated incredulously. "He's a blood traitor. And you see his gang of friends strutting around and jinxing people on the hallway for no reason."

"And you don't?" Regulus shot back before he could stop himself.

His friends looked taken aback and spluttered. "Yeah but only on mudbloods! They deserve it!"

Regulus gaped. "What did they do to you? Nothing!"

"It's bad enough they're even here at Hogwarts." Nott narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with you? Have you turned into a blood traitor after some bonding time with your ickle brother over the summer?"

Regulus blanched. "Sod off."

"Do your parents even know?" An ugly grin appeared on Rookwood's face, knowing Regulus' sensitivity regarding his parents' opinions of him.

"It's not like that. I just don't understand your pointless violence."

"Pointless? It's to teach them lessons!" said Montague hotly.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Regulus walked away from his friends, striding fast into the Great Hall, leaving his friends behind. He was thankful that Quidditch season was approaching, giving him an excuse to stay away from his friends with practices.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

While Regulus was busying himself with Quidditch Practices, full moon in September was fast approaching, much to the Marauders' unease. They gathered in the alcove at the entrance of the secret pathway to Hogsmeade.

James said resolutely, "We need to make plans."

"For what?" asked Remus, confused.

James looked around and leaned closer to whisper, "You know, your furry little problem."

"Oh. Right."

"It's our first time as Animagi around you in your furry state, so we should be cautious," said Peter said in hushed tones.

"Good news is we already know that werewolves are less hostile to animals," said Sirius.

"Okay, just make sure you don't eat me. We need to get you a big meal from the kitchen on that day," said James. Peter enthusiastically nodded in agreement.

Remus felt doubt creeping back into his mind. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

All three of them turned to stare evenly at Remus. "Of course, Remus. Is that even a question?"

"We're not letting you spend another full moon alone, mate," said James as he swung his arm around Remus. Sirius ruffled Remus' hair. "It's going to be awesome. You'll be _over the_ _moon_."

"... Really, Sirius?" Peter eyed Sirius, unimpressed.

"You're just jealous of my puns, Wormtail."

"Stop calling me that!" Peter scowled and half-heartedly shoved Sirius.

"But your tail wiggles like a leeetle worm," Sirius cooed, wriggling his fingers in front of Peter's face.

"Alright, you two, shut up and listen," said James as he tapped on the map. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Sirius snorted. "I can't believe you actually used that as the phrase."

The empty parchment slowly filled up as if an invisible person held an ink-dripping brush over it.

They were still proud of their achievement with the map.

"After you go into the shack, we'll follow after half an hour. Peter and I have been poking around Whomping Willow for a year after we heard from Professor Sprout that the tree has a paralysis point."

Peter muttered, "Yeah, nearly lost an arm for that."

James continued, "And we found it. We'll transform and see you in the shack. We won't go outside the shack this time – we need to see how well we can manage you in our Animagi forms."

Sirius turned to Remus and pointed to the ground. "Down, tiger."

Remus elbowed Sirius' ribs. "Shut up, you mangy dog," said Remus. "Oh wait, I need to tell you other Prefect's round routes and time."

"Uhm Remus? Invisibility Cloak?" James said slowly.

"It's still better to know for future reference," said Sirius. "Just in case we can't use it."

"Fair enough."

Remus drew a time table for each Prefect rounds on a parchment. His other three friends eyed Remus, impressed by his meticulousness.

"You know, Remus. Sometimes you scare me." Sirius grimaced. "We're all quite thorough with our pranks but … you take it to a whole new level. I think we would have at least three times more detentions if it weren't for you."

Remus grinned. "I am a marauder after all."

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

McGonagall gently rang a glass goblet with a silver spoon, catching everyone's attention at dinner in the Great Hall.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and cleared his throat. His face was grievous and his eyes lacked the usual twinkle, instead filled with sorrow.

"It is … with my deepest sympathy and condolences that I share with you the death of the loved ones of our students. Hogwarts will always be here to give its sincere support to those in need, so please do not hesitate to contact your Head of the House, any of the faculty members, and even your friends," said Dumbledore.

The faces turned solemn and the cheerful noise hushed into mournful silence.

"We shall have a moment of silence for the students whose loved ones have been wounded or have passed away in the recent events of attack."

Some students bowed their heads low, tears flowing down their cheeks, and their friends around them enveloped them into careful embrace. Grief heavily saturated the air, and the floating candle lights dimmed as if to gently hide the raw sorrow and despair on some students' faces against the world.

"What's in this pie? It's simply exquisite," said Avery Jr. abruptly. His voice wasn't loud but it crudely pierced through the devastated silence. "You know, house elves are quite abominable and I think they're scum of the earth but they do make good pies, mmhm."

"Avery, shut up," Andromeda hissed under her breath, glaring at him with disbelief in her eyes.

"What's that?" he replied innocently, the volume of his voice not even going down a notch.

Few heads turned angrily to shoot withering glares towards the Slytherin table.

"Moment. Of. Silence."

He gasped and looked around. "Oh dear. It is _very_ unfortunate some mudbloods' families died. Quite devastating… How on earth is the universe going to make up for such uselessness," he sighed in theatrical distraught.

Someone from the Gryffindor table stood up, her face deathly white with anger and grief. Her friends tugged her sleeve, muttering "Don't. He's not worth it."

Slughorn turned red and let out an embarrassed cough from the staff table, ashamed by Avery's tactlessness.

"What? I need to compliment these pies — to keep silent in the face of such master piece is a sin!" Avery cried.

"Mr. Avery, that is enough," said Dumbledore firmly.

Avery raised his eyebrow, wearing a sardonic expression. "Oh, are you speaking to me, Headmaster? I thought you're supposed to keep silent."

"Which is what you should also be doing, Mr. Avery."

"Oh, Headmaster, I cannot possibly disrespect the dead by pretending to be mournful when I'm not," Avery pouted. "Do not force grief down our throats."

There was a hand clamping down on Avery's shoulder.

"I think that is quite enough," said the Mediwizard. "If you wish to further entertain us with your cruel words, I will be forced to remove you from the Hall for the remainder of the evening."

Avery narrowed his eyes. He did not miss the silent threat discharging from the man's eyes and his stance.

He shrugged and went back to his pie, curtly nodding.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Remus tensed as he felt the wolf in him slowly uncoiling and growing restless as the full moon was just a day away. His friends were equally nervous if not more, shifting into their Animagi forms whenever they were all alone to make sure their transformations were flawless.

But when Madam Pomfrey called him to the Infirmary, he knew something was up.

"Mr. Lupin," Madam Pomfrey tentatively called. Her smile was apologetic, sincere eyes gazing at him with worry. Remus' insides tensed in fear of what she was sorry for.

"My niece is gravely ill at the moment. She's in need of my assistance." She reached for his hand and grasped it firmly. "I'm afraid that I won't be back until after the full moon."

Remus froze, his face draining of blood. He felt his hands go cold even under Madam Pomfrey's warm hand. Remus' eyes frantically darted between Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, hoping one of them would reassure him by saying this was a nasty joke. None of them did.

"I am so sorry," said Madam Pomfrey earnestly, her sincere apology evident in her sad eyes.

"Then who will help me during the full moon?" he whispered brokenly. His voice was hoarse. His heart painfully clenched at the thought of walking across the grounds alone, pressing the knot of Whomping Willow alone, climbing through the long, dark tunnel alone without having Madam Pomfrey put a gentle hand on his trembling shoulders. Alone … _Alone_.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Mr. Lupin, I assure you we won't let you go through the full moon alone. We have a trustworthy wizard who will look after you while Madam Pomfrey's absence."

A wizard? How could Dumbledore ask a wizard to do this task? Most wizards were terrified of werewolves.

But he realised he wasn't alone. His tense shoulders relaxed in relief as he remembered his friends. James, Sirius, and Peter would be there for him. He wasn't alone. But guilt of deceiving Dumbledore about their Animagi status and putting them in danger made his insides cold.

"As you will remember, Mr. Carrow, Madam Pomfrey's assistance, will be accompanying you."

Oh. Wasn't he the man that Sirius raved about the whole summer?

'He's sometimes a git but I would trust him with my life,' said Sirius when he told the Marauders that he knew this new Mediwizard.

Remus might not trust the man but he trusted Sirius' judgment.

Hours passed by in a flurry.

His friends sneaked out an impressive amount of food from the kitchens and attempted to shove them down Remus' protesting throat. He never really had much appetite before transformation.

Dreading as the sun set, Remus watched as the daylight was consumed by the darkness. The night of the full moon arrived like an unwelcomed guest. He barely paid attention on the way to the shack, too worried about his friends and their first time attempt to make a small talk with the wizard beside him.

The wizard was casting Cushioning charms in the shack, getting rid of any sharp edges or splinters that Remus may hurt himself in the fit of transformation. Remus fidgeted nervously in the corner.

But Remus knew the moment when the full moon rose in the night sky.

Remus' breathing became short and ragged. Every inch of his body was shifting, twisting — it felt like another being inside him was rampaging to split Remus open and emerge out of his skin.

"You should leave soon. No — now. You should leave _now_," he panted. Remus felt sweat drops forming on his forehead as his body slowly began to fight against the lycanthropy. Even if he was mentally prepared and accepted his transformation, his body fought against it on its own. It was a tiring fight … A fight that he could never win but had to continue as long as he lived whether he liked it or not.

"Oh don't worry about me. I'll leave when I deem it ready," said the man, shrugging.

"No," moaned Remus. Why couldn't the man _understand__?_ He was about to become a werewolf – in fact, _right now_ – and the man was just sitting there as if nothing was going on.

"You need to leave now!" His voice was full of panic. "Get — _out_ —" he wheezed as the boiling in his chest grew fiercer. "Do you want to be ripped in pieces by a werewolf?" he shouted desperately. Remus felt every cell of his body change, change into that of a beast. A beast. "GET OUT!"

Noting the desperate tone in his voice, the man scrambled, gathering the belongings, while casting worried glances in Remus' way.

"Don't — forget — to lock the door," he panted. He couldn't stand the thought of Moony darting through the door and slaughtering — No. He refused to think about what Moony did in his werewolf state.

The man bit his lip as if he wanted to say something comforting but didn't know how. He looked at Remus with concerned eyes for the last time and hurried out.

When the door closed, Remus let out a relieved sigh and let the werewolf take over his body.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

… _There were blurry images – like a panorama – of a stag, a dog, and a rat … _

Feeling a warm hand gently shaking him, Remus slowly came to consciousness, albeit his mind still foggy and delirious from the deep unconsciousness that usually accompanied the transformation. He shuddered from chilly air. Then he felt warmth envelop him like a cocoon.

"Remus," a voice whispered.

"Dad?" Remus rasped, trying to lift his heavy eyelids. He remembered the early days of transformation – his father gently cradling him in his strong, sturdy arms and his mother softly whispering endearments and encouraging words to him.

"Shh." A warm hand descended and covered his eyes. Remus let his eyes close.

"You went through enough, Remus. Rest. Your friends are waiting for you."

The voice and the warmth lulled him to sleep. Almost.

"REMUS—!"

"Mmphh—" Remus felt air squeezed out of his lungs as James, Sirius, and Peter launched onto him and embraced him in a group hug.

"You idiots, you'll crush him to death!" Harry shouted.

"I'm sorry I wrestled you! I should have known even in your werewolf state, you're still gentle, wimpy Remus! But you sort of won though!"

"I'm sorry my antlers poked you! I didn't know they were that long! And I don't know how to tell you this but - Sirius wanted me to scratch his furry arse with it because he couldn't reach with his hind legs and, and you sniffed and licked it!" James gagged.

"I'm sorry I wasn't beside you — I thought I was gonna get stepped on! All of you were prancing about like ponies!"

"_Silencio!"_

Remus sighed in relief at the welcoming silence. He couldn't even lift a finger to cover his ears or tell them to shut up.

Harry removed Peter, Sirius, and James one by one from Remus. The three stood in a line, fidgeting with their robes and hair.

"Okay, you three are going to go back to your dorm right now under James' invisibility cloak. I'm taking Remus to the Infirmary." Harry felt a tug on his robe. "What?"

James and Sirius pointed to the satchel on their shoulders. It was full of healing potions and bandages they always carried around for Remus around full moon.

Affection bloomed in Remus' chest at the sight of his friends' consideration. Remus couldn't help but smile fondly at his friends who stole a glance at him while anxiously fidgeting with their robes. "Oh come here." He lifted his arms, trying to ignore how his arms were quavering from fatigue. All three of them wailed and dove into Remus' arms. "There, there."

After calming down, James, Sirius, and Peter begrudgingly left but not without promising their faces would be the first thing Remus would see among a pile of Chocolate Frogs when he woke up in the Infirmary.

Feeling his tense muscles relax after confirming none of his friends were hurt, Remus let go and drifted off to sleep.

While Harry was tending to Remus, unprecedented event was happening in Hogwarts Dueling Club.

Bellatrix Black was winning her duels without using Dark Arts.

* * *

><p>If you want a snapshot of what Narcissa's attempt to set up Bellatrix and Harry is like, a side story, "Three Time Narcissa Tried to Match Make" is uploaded.<p>

Also working on a fic titled "Around the World in 80 days ... but with a Time Turner." Tentatively thinking of featuring Harry and Unspeakable!Draco.

This chapter isn't beta'ed yet, so all mistakes are mine.


	11. Part 2: Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Romance is not particularly the focus of this fic. But there will be mentions of het, slash, femslash. Canon-typical violence.

A/N: I made the Quidditch season start earlier than in the books.

* * *

><p>Part 2<p>

Chapter 2

The opponent in front of her had spent the last 20 minutes employing purely offensive tactics, firing spells and curses in succession, furiously jabbing his wand nonstop.

Still it was all too slow in her eyes. She could track the wand movement and the direction of the curses aiming towards her. Bellatrix couldn't suppress a bark of laughter escaping her as she spun around, easily dodging the spells he flung at her. She didn't even bother to cast a shield most of the time, infuriating her opponent even more.

But she tired of merely dancing to the tune of the other's magic. It was her turn to make him dance on his tiptoes. What an ungraceful sight he would make.

Bellatrix changed her footwork from defensive stance to offensive, slightly bending her knees to shift her center to a steadier position.

He must have seen the hard glint in her eyes. He stiffened and swiftly cast a shield to protect himself from the blazing curse that left Bellatrix's wand. The shield pulsed as it absorbed the shock. She fired another spell. Once again, the shield swallowed it.

She wanted to wipe the triumphant smirk on his face.

That shield…

The neon blue shield around him shimmered and flickered once in a while as if the caster's concentration wavered. No doubt it was draining him quite quickly.

His left hand hung to his side and his fingers twitched. He was channeling and maintaining the shield with his left hand while with his right, his wand hand, he kept throwing curses at her.

Bellatrix did have to applaud him for trying to catch two birds.

Her opponent cast a shield similar in nature to the Contego shield she had once used in a duel against Harry. He must have expected her to only cast Dark Arts or curses bordering on Dark Arts.

But that was to her advantage.

Regardless of the nature of the curses, he would still have to jump around because there was no way he could know in advance if her curses would be dissolved by the shield, especially when she were casting many nonverbal spells.

Harry had told her if there a spell that was particularly challenging to be cast as a nonverbal spell, it was possible to barely mouth or whisper the words while concentrating for it to succeed.

And no one should underestimate Bellatrix Black when she set her mind to do something.

She cackled in glee as she stabbed the air with her wand, firing spells and hexes, not only to his chest but to his feet, thighs, and arms, enjoying the view of her opponent floundering about and seeing his magic drain as he struggled to maintain the shield.

She'd play with the prey a little bit more until she finished him.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

"Argh!"

Her opponent unceremoniously landed face down on the floor with a pained grunt. His wand rolled over to the edge of the Dueling Platform and clattered onto the floor with a harsh clank.

The Great Hall fell silent. Every student in the Dueling Club was eyeing Bellatrix with awe and fear – and some with utter disbelief.

There stood Bellatrix, tall and victorious, looking relatively unscathed save for few strands of dark hair flowing down on her face from the previous narrow dodge. She lazily brushed them away.

Bellatrix smirked. Bet they didn't expect her to win without being sentenced to Azkaban for using Dark curses.

Of course, she did consider unleashing Fiendfyre on her opponent and watching blazing snake-shaped flames coil around him and squeeze him into ashes … but she settled on carefully aiming fine lines of fire along edges of his robe which slowly constricted him with heat and pressure. And Jelly-Legs jinx was ever effective to knock people down.

_Harry was right,_ Bellatrix thought with glee as she stepped down the platform. She could win a duel without using Dark Arts. Well, at least in public. She could still be powerful without resorting to nasty curses that would end her up in detention, or worse, in Azkaban.

She decided to be merciful and cast _Aguamenti Maxima _on her opponent to put out the fire, enjoying the spluttering mess.

Then Bellatrix saw Avery Jr. and Malfoy approaching her through the crowd surrounding her. The crowd parted like the red sea, making way for Avery and Malfoy and glancing at Avery especially with fear.

Hm, where was Mulciber? It was a rare occasion to witness Avery or Mulciber without the other.

Avery Jr. was also a 7th year but a year older than her, having repeated a year because of his mysterious absence. There were rumors that he couldn't bear the pain of the Dark Mark and became deathly ill and had to take a leave. Others speculated he was doing some errands for his father who was known to be in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. He had a streak of cruelness in him inherited from his father that made even Bellatrix uncomfortable. Bellatrix always found it ironic that Avery had the face of an innocent and all forgiving angel — like a devil wearing an angel's skin, but he was never able to hide the malice in his eyes and hard lines around his mouth.

"Avery. Malfoy," she greeted them curtly, "How's your beauty hair project to court my sister?"

Malfoy turned red and stammered. "I'm not _—_what are you talking about _—_"

"She likes it a little longer than shoulder length."

Malfoy's face lit up.

Avery groaned and rolled his eyes. Clearing his throat, Avery schooled his features.

"Your skills have improved, Black," said Avery with a note of appreciation in his voice.

Bellatrix sneered. Avery was too prideful for his own good. Who did he think he was, commenting like that as if he had anything to do with her improvement?

"Why, thank you, Avery. I would say the same thing to you if you hadn't been defeated by a Hufflepuff even before the semi-finals," she said, smiling sweetly.

Avery stiffened, but quickly recovered and sneered. "I would have cursed that pretty face of yours if only you weren't so skilled in dueling, Black."

Bellatrix curled her lips at Avery. "Ah, but I would blast your arms off even before your pretty lips can mouth the first syllable."

And they all knew it was true. One thing that helped Bellatrix sleep at night was that Avery did not have the skills to back his viciousness, and even if he did, she could still outmatch him. She had no doubt about that especially after Harry's tutelage.

"Mind your tongue, Bellatrix," Avery Jr. hissed. "You should be glad we reported your talent to the Dark Lord for he wishes to recruit you. Otherwise my hand would have … slipped and we'd see _your _pretty lips turning blue."

She ignored Avery's idle threat. Oh she knew it wasn't perfectly idle, but her mind was on more pressing topic. _The_ _Dark Lord_? Wanting to recruit _her_? She felt a surge of pride and thrill to be recognised by the most powerful wizard.

To serve the Dark Lord and join the cause. It would be more than _glorious_.

"The next round of recruitment and initiation is coming up within two weeks. We hope to see you there."

Avery gave Bellatrix a constrained nod, and he and Malfoy walked away, leaving Bellatrix to her thoughts.

Of course she wanted to join. She had no doubt about that. And even if she were to have an ounce of doubt and refuse the offer, Bellatrix knew what kind of fortune was bestowed on those who did. It was rumored that Avery and Mulciber were courting, or rather threatening to recruit, potential Death Eaters when they saw talent. The few who rejected on moral basis or wished to stay neutral had been found poisoned and rushed to the Infirmary. Harry had said he needed more supplies of bezoars and other antidotes last time she saw her.

But Harry wouldn't need to find a bezoar for her.

Thoughts of Queenie flashed across her mind. Oh she couldn't wait to tell Queenie about her victory and the offer.

Queenie and Bellatrix had been exchanging regular correspondence since their first meeting. Queenie Greengrass was a witch she had met in a gala hosted by one of the pureblood families. Bellatrix had saved her from the atrocities of Harry's dancing, or more like tromping, feet, and they had danced and talked throughout the rest of the evening. She was a natural dancer — her stout body with refined muscle gained from handling various magical creatures had a graceful edge to it, moving fluidly. Her words also flowed without hesitation when she talked.

Bellatrix had learned about magical zoology more in that one encounter with Queenie than in the last few years spent in the Care of Magical Creatures class. Who knew there were several herds of unicorns throughout Britain? Bellatrix thought there was only one herd in Britain, and the Dark Forest was the only home to them. And who knew there were so many things to learn about dragons?

The last few letters she received were from Romania. Queenie wrote in her letters that she was studying the behaviors of a clan of social dragons as well as solitary dragons, their diet, physical development and anatomy, and the ecology of dragons and their impact on the environment. She could practically hear Queenie's voice in her head as she read those letters, recalling her enthusiasm when Queenie told her what was known about unicorns while they were dancing.

In the last letter, Queenie bemoaned how much she missed Hogwarts house elves' cooking. Bellatrix made a note to herself to send a few packages of food with a Stasis Charm on her way.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Of course it was his luck to encounter Potter and his cronies in front of the Infirmary.

"What are you doing here, _Snivellus_? Someone hexed you with an Engorgement Charm on your nose?" Potter eyed Severus' nose with squinty eyes. "Oh wait. It's just the way it is," he sneered.

"None of your business, Potter," he spat. "Since when did you own the Infirmary?"

"Since you came here to wipe your nose with the bed sheets," Pettigrew smirked, crossing his arms. He looked as ratty as ever, obsequious and trailing after his friends. Behind them, Black was nearing them with an armful of chocolate frogs.

"Got some … boiling problem?" Potter smirked, arching his eyebrow.

His eyes widened. "_You_," he snarled with fierce hatred. "_It was you_."

Potter tiled his head with an innocent expression. "Pardon? I don't know what you're talking about," said Potter, batting his eyelashes. Pettigrew laughed beside him.

Severus whipped out his wand in a flash. "I will curse your —"

"What's going on here?"

They spun around and saw Carrow heading towards them.

He stared at them with suspicious eyes.

"Do you need anything, Mr. Snape?"

"Nothing that I can't brew on my own," he glowered. Severus turned on his heels, his robes billowing, and stalked away.

He heard behind his back Potter murmuring, "What a showoff."

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

When Remus lifted his heavy eyelids, he was met with a sight of his three friends putting on a garishly red nail polish on his longer than usual fingernails due to the transformation.

Remus cleared his throat.

His friends jumped, scrambling to put away the nail polish, and feigned nonchalance.

"Here are the lecture notes you missed," said Sirius quickly, putting down a parchment in front of Remus.

"Here are the notes you _need_," said James, purposely laying his note on top of Sirius'.

Sirius scowled. "No, Moony, my notes are better. It has illustrations."

"Your doodles make no sense and they're not even helpful," shot James.

"And your useless snitch doodles are helpful because..?"

James gasped. "Been spying on me? You tosser!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I sit beside you for almost every class."

James jutted his chin out. "Well, my handwriting is neater."

"Your handwriting looks like Hippogriff scratch. Mine is so elegant that even renowned calligraphers weep with envy at the sheer sight of it."

They were butting their foreheads and growling against each other when Remus said, "Thank you, Peter," and accepted Peter's notes. Remus winced as every fiber of his muscle protested against any sort of movement. He noticed the sloppy nail polish on his outstretched hand and cringed.

"What?!" said James and Sirius in unison, shocked.

"Both of your handwritings are hardly legible — yes, Sirius, yours too. Yours is so curly and flowery — and you gits omit too much," Remus replied calmly. Peter flashed a toothy, victorious grin at Sirius and James.

"My handwriting is certainly not flowery!" Sirius squawked.

James rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Padfoot. Remember our first year? When Slughorn was handing out the first Potions essay after he graded them? He couldn't believe you were a boy with that handwriting."

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. "So what? You'd have a handwriting like mine if your parents smacked your palm every time your handwriting was chicken scratch," he grumbled.

James pursed his lips, his face turning solemn.

"So… What happened last night?" Remus asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

James' face brightened. "It was wicked! You weren't dangerous at all! I mean after you sort of growled menacingly at us and sniffed us for minutes. But I think Moony figured we were harmless. And animals are _friends, not food_, and _voila_! He was like a tame domestic wolf."

"Which is a dog, by the way," said Sirius.

"Huh," said Remus. Memories of last night slowly flooded into his mind. Then he furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait. So does Carrow know …?"

"That we were out of our beds at night and that we're unregistered Animagi? Yup," said Sirius cheerfully. "He helped me with my Animagus transformation during the summer."

"And he doesn't have any problems with that? No points taken? No letter to the Ministry?"

Sirius shook his head. "Nah. When we told Harry why we were out, he choked up in tears at our beautiful friendship and said we're awesome friends and you're lucky to have us."

Remus eyed Sirius skeptically. "Really?" said Remus slowly. "That's it?"

Peter nodded. "I was really surprised. I thought he was going to report us to the Ministry. But he said we should do that on our own, register willingly, when we deem the time is right."

"Oh."

Then it struck him that he had just spent the full moon with his friends. And it all came back to him — how the wolf was guarded at first, fiercely growling and raising its fur, and finally accepting their presence, albeit begrudgingly.

He had always thought it would never get better, abject helplessness gripping his heart whenever the full moon rose in the sky.

He would live his whole life like this, suffering this pain. There was no way out. There was absolutely no way _out_.

How was he supposed to live with this? Live with this curse that turned him into a beast once a month until he would die? It sucked away his life — along with it his will to live another month because pain and loneliness was unbearable. What devastated him even more was the fact that he was an outsider, a beast that was shunned, and even if he was a wizard most of the time, that one day of transformation each month defined him for life.

But now…

Although there was no way out, there were at least his friends who would be with him in this nightmare, who would keep him company, who didn't abandon him when they had found out he was a werewolf.

Remus heaved himself up with a groan and looked down as he heard something tumbling down. There was a tower of chocolate frogs at his feet.

James furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

"Remus, you really don't have to come to the match," James emphasised, fully knowing how exhausted Remus was after the full moon.

"No, I'm not that tired," said Remus, giving James a strained smile. Remus beckoned James over. "Be a dear and hoist me up."

Sirius snickered. "Yeah, James. Be a _deer_ and help Remus."

Ignoring Sirius' bad pun, James still looked uncertain.

Remus sighed. "It would be most remiss of me not to stop Sirius going overboard."

"Oh." James grimaced at the memory of his past games. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Oi, me going overboard? I'm just showing my support!" Sirius sniffed.

Ignoring him, James turned to Remus with desperate eyes. "O wise one, please tell me you'll save me from their evil, scheming claws of humiliation tomorrow."

"Can't guarantee you that. Sorry, mate."

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Indeed Remus couldn't guarantee.

"MY BALLS ARE BIGGER THAN THAT QUAFFLE YOU'RE HOLDING, POTTER," Sirius bellowed from the top of his lungs, his voice booming over the Quidditch Field with the help of Sonorous charm, easily drowning out the ear-splitting cheer of the crowd. James, who was flying over the Gryffindor stand, flipped a finger at Sirius.

"Sirius, you have a very odd definition of cheering for your friends," Peter sighed. He leaned over to one of the 5th year boys and whispered, "One Galleon on James forgetting he's a seeker for now and getting yelled by the Captain."

"You both do," Remus muttered, sighing.

Indeed James seemed like he had forgotten he was a replacement Seeker because their usual Gryffindor Seeker had fallen sick with Dragon Pox.

James successfully blocked a Quaffle passing among the Slytherins, and yelped in surprise and quickly twisted away in a frantic twirl to avoid the bludger that swooshed past his face, almost knocking his goggles out.

Seeing James almost hit by a bludger, Sirius was about to jump from the stands and hijack one of the player's broom to chase the Slytherin beater down and pin him to the goal post. James Potter was their bastard to make fun of, not Slytherins' to beat him down the broom.

"OI YOU BASTARDS –" Sirius ferociously growled.

"Sirius, calm down – James is alright," said Remus, trying to hold back Sirius who swung his one leg over the ledge, his face set in a determined mask.

While this racket was going on in the stands, the Gryffindor captain looked furious. "POTTER," she screeched. "YOU'RE A SEEKER NOW. FOCUS ON THE SNITCH."

Remus could see James' dumbfounded expression and him mouthing, "Oh right," and flew up higher to get a better view of the field. Peter smirked.

Regulus was quite high up in the sky away from the scuffle down below. His eyes frantically searching for the snitch before Potter could.

"COME ON, REGULUS. PUT THAT POTTER IN HIS PLACE," Sirius yelled.

Regulus blinked, astounded by Sirius' outburst, as this was the first time he ever cheered for him, especially during Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match.

James flew upwards and joined him, lazily flying about. But Regulus wasn't fooled by Potter's lethargic stance. Potter was scanning the air with a focused look. Regulus continued to search for the snitch while cautiously eyeing Potter.

He could sense that Potter spotted the snitch by the tense lines in his shoulders – and he darted forward behind Potter who was diving down.

Regulus felt a strange sensation of déjà vu as the scene before him changed. Instead of James Potter who was spiraling downwards, he saw Harry. He gasped at the resemblance, although Harry was more lithe and agile, the same unruly, raven hair flaring at the wind and the same crouching position on the broom were enough for Regulus to recall Harry – Harry and the particular stunt he always did when he was trying to feign he was chasing the snitch that was darting downwards to have Regulus dive after him in a precarious angle. It always left Regulus befuddled when he reached the lower region, only to find Harry soaring up in an astonishing speed to catch the snitch. The stunt he did when the snitch was actually up above.

Regulus snapped his eyes upward and felt his heart burst when he spotted the snitch. He instantly pulled his broom up and crouched flat on the broom to boost up the speed. Regulus smirked as he heard Potter's astonished cry and cursing. His heart was pounding roughly against his chest as the distance between his stretched hand and the snitch shortened.

And his hand snatched the golden ball out of midair and felt its wings flutter madly against his hand.

"REGULUS BLACK CATCHES THE SNITCH!"

As soon as Regulus landed on the ground and turned around, he was crushed into a sudden embrace. Familiar bark of laughter rang against his ears.

"Sirius?" spluttered Regulus as Sirius pulled away and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"You beat James! You beat _the _James Potter!" Sirius cried enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. "Merlin, I'm so proud of you! Oh I'm going to cherish this moment forever! Did you see James' _face_? This is priceless!"

He didn't. Regulus slowly looked around to find Potter, finding him pouting furiously at Lupin. Lupin's face was contorted with irritation as Potter clung to his arms. Potter looked like a 5-year-old demanding immediate attention and care because he was hurt.

Their eyes met. Potter seethed, nostrils flaring. And then, much to Regulus' shock, Potter smiled, and nodded with a begrudging respect. Noticing Regulus' confused look, Sirius traced Regulus' glance to see what it was and then burst into laughter.

"You gave him a challenge, Regulus," said Sirius, patting him on the back. Then he groaned. "Urgh, now he's going to whine about his defeat and how it marred his record until I hex his mouth off," Sirius blanched. "And he'll be more crazy about Quidditch and practice for hours," said Sirius.

In the distance, he saw Harry waving and cheering on the faculty stands, jumping up and down amidst of the staff who were all seated. Regulus raised his hand and waved back with a wide grin threatening to split his face into half.

It was the happiest moment in his life.

But the world didn't seem intent on letting Regulus keep that happiness.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Three days after the victorious Quidditch match, Regulus received a letter from his parents. The Black family owl landed gracefully in front him during breakfast and dropped a letter next to his plate while staring at Regulus with its unsettling cold, beady eyes, much like Irma's. It then flew over to the Gryffindor table and gave a harsh peck on Sirius' head.

"OW – what the bloody hell was that for?!" Sirius rubbed his head, warily eyeing the owl that flew away. Potter cackled at the sight and said, "You're lucky it didn't shit on you or your food."

Dearly hoping it was a congratulatory letter for the Quidditch match, Regulus gingerly opened the envelope and his eyes traced the elegant writing of his mother.

_We'll be visiting you tomorrow. There is an issue to be addressed._

Regulus' stomach plummeted and he tried to think in panic what he had done these past days to warrant this letter, and came up with none.

Or … did his friends tell his parents about the change of dynamics between him and his brother? But was that such an issue to warrant a visit from his parents?

He wanted to say no but he lacked conviction.

He wanted to talk to Sirius. Regulus pursed his lips in thought. He wrote a quick note to Sirius and folded it into a shape of a crane and gently blew it away, seeing the crane flutter over to Sirius.

Sirius caught the crane in his hands and unfolded it. His friends paused their antics as they realised Sirius' face turned pale. Sirius' gaze snapped up to Regulus, his eyes imploring, _why_?

Regulus could only shrug helplessly.

Later when they met up in the corridor, Sirius attempted to ease their worries by jesting, "Merlin, what have you done, Reg? Blew up a toilet? No, shagged a Gryffindor or something?" Sirius' chuckle was forced and awkward.

"I don't know," Regulus whispered. "I really don't know. What's going on, Sirius?"

Sirius sobered. "I'm out of the loop as much as you are, Reg. If you unknowingly caused a trouble, you would have received a howler like I did. But this is a letter."

Regulus squared his shoulders. "I'm going to go talk to Harry."

"I'll go with you."

When they got to the Infirmary, they were met with disappointment as Madam Pomfrey told them it was her shift for the rest of the day and Harry wouldn't be here.

"Is this urgent?" she asked gently.

Regulus and Sirius looked at each other.

"Er — do you know when he'll be here tomorrow?" asked Regulus, trying to hide his desperation.

"Perhaps tomorrow morning," replied Madam Pomfrey sadly.

Sirius and Regulus shared a desperate look.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

The next day morning Regulus couldn't help but keep fidgeting with unease. As soon as Transfiguration was over, he rushed to the Infirmary.

He was about to knock on Harry's office door when he heard people shouting behind the door.

"He already joined the Dark Lord when he was 16! Imagine, an Avery ahead of a Black! Disgraceful!" said a voice that sounded much like Irma.

Regulus' hand stopped in midair an inch away from the door.  
>" – but he's only a child!"<p>

That was Harry's voice. His voice had a hint of desperation. Were they talking about him? They had to be, considering the letter he got from his parents.

" – sake! He's only fourteen!"

Yes, definitely talking about Regulus.

" – and he wants to! He can be the youngest Death Eater in the Dark Lord's ranks!"

Regulus crept closer to the door.

"He only wants to make you proud," said Harry.

"Well, then he knows we will certainly be proud of him if he joins the Dark Lord," his mother huffed.

"No child deserves to experience war at that age, Walburga."

"Regulus is hardly a child! He is more than qualified to join the rank. Harry, he will be part of the revolution! Part of the history. It's an honour!" His mother sounded frustrated as to why Harry could not understand such obvious reason.

Regulus felt a presence behind him and turned around to find Bellatrix approaching the door in silent footsteps, holding a finger against her lips to silence Regulus.

"There is no honour in war," said Harry gravely. "There's only fear, horror, and death. Surely you don't want your son to see the horrors of the war firsthand!"

"Then what about Bellatrix?"

That was Pollux. Regulus thought only his parents were visiting but it seemed like the heads of the Black family were also here.

"Regulus is beyond capable of withstanding the war. He's different from his cowardly, muggle loving fool of a brother. So is Bellatrix. She wants to join the cause," said Arcturus.

"Yes," said Irma enthusiastically. "Bellatrix is more than ready. We all know she is a very promising dueler. Her magical capacity is not as great as Sirius' but she can make it up with her skills. You taught her well, Harry. Don't you want the world to see your prodigy?"

Regulus glanced at Bellatrix. Her face remained expressionless.

"Both of them are not prepared for the war! The war will break them, Irma. They are only children."

"Avery joined the Dark Lord when he was sixteen!"

"That was his choice, but Regulus –"

Irma cut him off. "Will make his choice. He will make the right decision: join the Dark Lord. So will Bellatrix."

"Because they want to prove themselves. But that shouldn't be the reason they want to join the war," said Harry in an exasperated tone.

"What else is there? Proving your worth to the Dark Lord, proving your Family's loyalty to the cause, that is all that matters!"

"No!" Harry shouted. "Both of them are not prepared. Fine, whatever you call it –" There was a pause. "They're not skilled enough. They are not prepared," Harry repeated, sounding defeated. "It is too risky for both of them to join in their current state."

"Why? You said few weeks ago that there was nothing you can teach more to Bellatrix."

"But that doesn't mean she's ready for _war_," Harry protested.

"Well, it is not your place to decide otherwise. We, as the Heads of the Black family, made our decision. We are here to help Regulus make his own. And also Bellatrix," said Arcturus sternly, his tone conveying the finality of the matter.

Regulus stood there, feeling numb. He turned to look at Bellatrix, who was silently standing there – but fuming.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not prepared? Not skilled enough? Each criticism in front of Regulus' parents and the Heads of the Black family felt like a stab into her heart.

'You're prepared for anything!' Harry had once said when Bellatrix defeated him in a duel. But apparently not prepared for the recognition from her relatives.

For him to teach her for the entire summer, only to tell her family she was not prepared, that she wasn't proficient enough …

Her face heated up in humiliation.

The door creaked open and Harry angrily stomped out of the office, wearily rubbing his forehead, his face worn out. He stopped dead when he saw Regulus and Bellatrix standing by the door.

"Regulus? Bellatrix? What are you —?"

"I trusted you," Bellatrix whispered numbly.

Bellatrix could feel her body tremble with cold fury, her throat constricting from the overwhelming anger she felt boiling in her stomach.

"You thought I was incapable, unprepared —"

"No, Bellatrix, I —"

"You lied to me. You told me I had talents — I was capable of advanced magic — and you tell them that, that I'm worthless, unprepared, and_ weak_."

Harry shook his head. "I didn't say —"

"All this time, you lied to me," croaked Bellatrix.

"Bellatrix, please — I wasn't saying that —"

Of course he didn't outright say she was weak and worthless but he as good as said it — it was clearly implied in his words.

"I trusted you, I even confided in you — I _trusted_ you!" Bellatrix shouted, feeling her fingernails digging into her palms.

She told him things she had been locking up inside her for _years_ — things she never thought she could tell anyone or even admit to herself. She told him about her insecurities about her magical strength compared to Sirius. It was so relieving to tell _someone_ her pent up frustration, to have someone guide her through her insecurities and vulnerabilities. Granted, it was forced out of her by Dueling Magic but she didn't regret telling him once as Harry embraced both her strength and her weakness. Until now.

Hatred, anger, and betrayal stung her heart harshly. Bellatrix couldn't even breathe properly. Seeing this, this — _bastard_ in front of her, daring to look sorry, hurt her so much. She felt the back of her eyes tingle from – what? Hurt? Sadness? Anger? Betrayal?

"Bella, _please_ —"

"_No,"_ she spat scathingly. "No, you _don't_ get to call me that."

Harry yanked his outstretched hand away as if burnt.

Bellatrix could hear her harsh breathing, her madly thrumming heartbeat, and high, ear-splitting ringing in her ears. She turned around and ran, ignoring Harry's cries of calling her name.

Regulus could not dare to confront the man in such state. After Bellatrix ran out, casting an obstacle charm to clearly prevent Harry from chasing after her – or at least sending the message because she knew he could deflect it – Harry numbly stared into the empty corridor, looking so fragile and broken. Regulus couldn't fathom what the man was thinking. Harry seemed as if he aged a lifetime from meeting his parents and others and from Bellatrix' outburst. He looked lost, his sunken eyes staring into nothingness.

"Harry?" Regulus called tentatively.

Harry jerked in surprise. When he turned his face to Regulus, his eyes softened.

"Regulus, I —" he paused. "What I said in there — I didn't mean that you two were weak."

"No, Harry, I understand —"

"No, you _don't _understand," Harry said. "But first, help me find Bellatrix and I will talk to you both."

Regulus nodded.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Regulus had very limited ideas about where Bellatrix could be. Yes, she was his cousin, but that didn't mean they were best friends and knew each other's secrets. They tried the dungeons, but there was no sight of her. Harry pursed his lips in thought for a long time and finally asked, "… where is the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom?"

Regulus and Harry found Bellatrix sitting alone in the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom.

Bellatrix herself noted the irony of finding solace in the presence of Dark artefacts in the _Defense against_ the Dark Arts classroom. She flinched when she heard murmurings outside the locked door, and didn't bother to look as Regulus and Harry strode in.

"Here you are," said Harry, relieved.

"Piss off," Bellatrix snarled.

"Bellatrix, listen to me —" Harry started.

She whirled around and faced him. "No, I get it, okay? You don't have to say it again. I'm not prepared — I don't have enough skills — "

"It's not that, Bellatrix." Harry stood by her and laid his hand on her shoulder. She roughly shook it away.

Harry continued softly. "I know you are an excellent duelist. You really are the best Duelist I've ever encountered. But dueling in school is vastly different from actually fighting in a battle. And joining the Dark Lord at such a young age isn't the best course of action."

"We have to side with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord's power and influence is growing every day. And I am of age," she said pointedly, glaring at Harry.

"How can you join the people who attacked your aunt and your cousin?"

"That was a mistake. This is for the greater good. The Dark needs more people to fight. I want to join the cause!" She balled her hands into fists in determination.

"You shouldn't have to do that. Let other older people do that," said Harry calmly.

"Who? My relatives?" She laughed at the idea. "They're too bloody busy gossiping about the war's tide in tea-parties to actually participate in the war and aid the Dark Lord," she spat. "Why don't _you_ join, then? Since you're all powerful and skilled enough."

Harry opened his mouth and closed again. "We're not talking about me right now. This is about you and Regulus."

"_I'm not a damsel in distress for you to save_, Harry!" she cried, frustration marring her features. "And so is Regulus!"

Harry turned to Regulus as if expecting him to deny Bellatrix's accusation. Regulus nodded with a grimace. Harry spluttered.

"I'm not thinking of you as —"

"Yes, you _are_! Don't think we haven't noticed you always staring at us like we are fragile children that you have to go out of your way to protect — we're not yours to fix and save, Harry. We are making our own decisions about our own lives."

"I know it's not my place but that doesn't stop me from trying, Bellatrix. Don't you see you're playing with fire? It's dangerous," Harry said firmly, though with almost pleading look in his eyes. "Please reconsider."

"No, _you_ should reconsider. You're an idealistic fool not facing the reality," she gritted out, ignoring Harry's flinch. "Right now Hogwarts is sheltering us from the war, but soon or later we will need to make choices," said Bellatrix. She glanced at Regulus. "We just happen to make ours earlier than others," she said softly.

Harry began, "I understand that all of this is hard —"

"How do you know?" snapped Bellatrix. "You're different from me." She clenched her teeth in anger.

"How _dare_ you say those things in front of my relatives." She was livid, her anger surging through her once again as she remembered Harry's scalding words. "This could be my chance to prove to my family that I am equal, no, _better_ than Sirius."

Regulus blinked. _What?_ He stared at his cousin incredulously. But it seemed Bellatrix was too immersed in her anger at Harry to actually notice his presence.

"You understand _nothing_," she hissed furiously. "You're a _coward_ who wouldn't step up to do anything. You didn't even have the pressure of joining the war when you were a teenager," she said angrily. "How do you know if I'm prepared or not!"

"BECAUSE I WASN'T!" Harry shouted, banging his fist against the wall. Bellatrix blinked in surprise at the ferocious reaction.

"Because _I_ had underestimated the war! I was never prepared for it! All my life I was told I would be taking a part in the war, and I _thought_ I was ready!" He swallowed. "I never was …" He trailed off. "I wasn't prepared to see people dying around me, people dying because of me, and people screaming in panic and agony, begging me to save them! I wasn't strong enough — to, to see their bloodied faces stare at me in horror, see their bodies around me, to see the blank faces of the dead … I was never prepared for that! No one could prepare me and _no one_ can be prepared for that!"

Harry panted and then slowly collapsed in his seat, burying his head in his hands. He was trembling, his face ashen.

"I still dream about it. I wasn't prepared for the nightmares that haunted me even after the war. I don't know how to deal with it. My friends," he choked. "My friends…" he whispered brokenly. Then he lifted his head, staring straight into Bellatrix's eyes. Bellatrix could see the storm of emotions swirling in his eyes. She shuddered slightly at the magnitude of emotions she saw in them — grief, guilt, helplessness, and desperation. Her eyes flicked to the lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

They momentarily lapsed into deadly silence as Harry buried his face in his hands with a shaky sigh.

"So call me a coward, because I am one. I care too much about you two, and … I fear for your safety."

Bellatrix averted her gaze to the ground, Harry's raw emotion too much for her to bear.

"It's your choice to go to war. I can't order you not to go. I would willingly get down on my knees and _beg_ you not to go if you would listen to me. But," he chuckled bitterly as he gazed at Bellatrix and Regulus, "you wouldn't. No one ever did."

Bellatrix opened her mouth and paused. Before Bellatrix could muster up the courage or think up a response, Harry spoke again.

"The best I can do for you is to prepare you so you can survive. I can teach you skills for survival of your body, but I cannot teach you how to protect your soul and mind against the horrors of the war." Harry's face scrunched up, his eyes closed painfully as if he was stifling a sob.

"Because I had desperately wished to know how to do that years ago, and I still haven't figured it out."

Bellatrix didn't know what to say to the man who was clutching his forehead in invisible, internal agony Bellatrix couldn't fathom.

"But I beg you both," he croaked. "I am _begging_ you, please don't join the Death Eaters. You can have all the glory in the world with your talents — but not this way. _Please_." He held Regulus' hand and hers in his own and bowed his head down. Harry's tears dropped on their hands, the weight of his tears crushing their hearts as well.

Bellatrix sighed.

"Avery and Mulciber will try to poison us," said Bellatrix quietly after a moment.

Harry's head snapped up. "What?!"

"They'd been trying to recruit among the upperclassmen, especially seventh years. Mulciber distracts and Avery poisons the ones who refuse."

Harry's eyes lit up with a dangerous gleam. He squeezed their hands firmly.

"I will protect you."

"You can't be with us 24/7 to monitor every possible way poison can get into our system," said Regulus softly.

"No, but I can help you detect threat," said Harry with determination. "I can and will protect both of you with my life if that means I have to sell my soul to the devil."

Harry lifted his hands to gently cup both Regulus and Bellatrix's cheeks, his gaze tender and affectionate but burning fiercely as he stared at them.

"I won't lose anyone anymore," he vowed.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

When Bellatrix returned from her long walk around the Black Lake, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus were in the common room, waiting for her. The common room was empty. It felt like they were at the Black Manor again with only them.

"What are you lot up to?"

"We heard from Regulus what happened," said Narcissa.

Andromeda looked at her worriedly. "Are you still planning to join the Dark Lord?

Bellatrix hesitated. That was the question she kept mulling over during her stroll.

"No," she finally let out. _Perhaps not yet._

Andromeda visibly sagged in relief. Narcissa nodded.

"What about you, Regulus?"

Regulus swallowed. "I … I don't want to." He bowed his head. Sirius stood protectively beside him.

Andromeda reached out and held Regulus' hands. "What do you reckon will happen now? I can't imagine your parents and especially grandmother Irma letting this go so easily."

"Well, Harry said he would do his best to convince them," Regulus murmured.

Bellatrix arched her eyebrow. "If I remember the bits of conversation I overheard, I don't think he was succeeding."

"He mentioned he was going to make a deal."

"What deal?" asked Bellatrix sharply.

Regulus shrugged. "Dunno. He wouldn't tell me."

"Well, I'm glad to hear your decisions," said Narcissa.

"Why?" Bellatrix drawled.

Narcissa stared evenly at her. "You two could get seriously injured. Have you not read _the Daily Prophet_? The Ministry announced that desperate times call for desperate measures, and they're sending out the Dementors into the field. The Aurors are trying their hardest to crush these raids — to think you two will be there to face the Aurors." She grimaced.

"The Aurors are no match for the Death Eaters," said Bellatrix, lifting her chin.

"Still, it's _dangerous_. Whatever the cause maybe, I don't like risking my family members," said Narcissa.

"Besides, how can you ... you do realise if you join the Death Eaters, you're going to attack people — even if they're muggles and muggleborns," said Andromeda with difficulty. She bit her lips. "I mean, look around us. Even at Hogwarts there are muggleborns, and to think once you graduate, you'll … harm them, it's just …" she trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I didn't know you became attached to mudbloods."

Sirius' eyes flashed with contempt.

Andromeda flinched. "I haven't," she said coolly, regaining her composure. "But it's enough to see them all throughout my time at Hogwarts. They're not at all what our parents and our relatives keep saying they are— don't you see?"

Regulus gave a small nod but eyed Bellatrix and Narcissa with unease.

"All I see is the potential threat they can pose to our world and their unworthiness," said Bellatrix coldly.

"But — but that's not all what they are," Andromeda protested.

"There's no point in trying to make her see sense, Andy," Sirius grumbled.

She ignored Sirius. "That's enough for me." Bellatrix regarded her sister oddly. "What's going on? You've gone soft, Andy."

Andromeda swallowed. "It's just that I don't think you would actually want blood on your hands, however _impure_ it may be."

"Andy, you care too much," said Bellatrix softly.

"And you care too less," she countered.

Bellatrix scoffed.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

"Black, you have a visitor," said Malfoy, his prefect badge shining obnoxiously on his chest. Bellatrix didn't put past him to cast an extra shining charm on it to draw attention.

"Now?" asked Bellatrix suspiciously.

It was nearing midnight. Who could it be? Was it one of her relatives or her parents coming back to convince her?

"You'll go to the visitor's lounge beside the Headmaster's office."

She stepped out of the Slytherin dungeon after Malfoy, keeping her hand tightly around her wand. Was this Avery's ploy to threaten her instead of poisoning her?

But to Bellatrix's relief, on the way to the lounge Malfoy kept pestering her about what Narcissa likes or dislikes, and Bellatrix lazily answered some of them.

"Through there," said Malfoy, pointing to the archway. He then turned around and retreated to his Prefect duties.

The heavy door creaked open with a deep rumble, and Bellatrix cautiously stepped in.

The visitor's lounge was a spacious room with simple furnishing that included a beige couch, a table, few chairs, and a fireplace.

In middle of the room stood Queenie Greengrass.

She was clad in a black leather jacket and dragon hide boots, with deep crimson coloured robe swung over her arm, which Bellatrix conjectured was a standard Dragon Keeper or Dragonologist robe. Her clothing style bore an uncanny resemblance to the way Sirius occasionally dressed himself.

As beautiful as she was in a fancy ball gown, Queenie in her Dragon Keeper gears was also breathtaking and so … Queenie.

The petite but quite stout witch turned around when she heard the door open and beamed as she spotted Bellatrix.

"I received your letter," said Queenie.

"Yes, and a simple reply via owl would have been suffice," said Bellatrix slowly, bewildered.

Queenie waved her off. "I was just stopping by the area anyway."

"At this hour?" Bellatrix asked.

She once again waved her off. "We Dragon Keepers work on a different sense of time." She beckoned Bellatrix over to the couch in the lounge. Queenie's boots clunked heavily on the floor as she took each step. Bellatrix had never seen someone with such purposeful walk, each step savoring its way to wherever the destination was.

"Now, tell me in detail what happened." Queenie said, her eyes carefully searching Bellatrix's face.

Bellatrix told her about her victory at the Dueling Club ("Ha! I'm not even surprised. And teach me the fiery rope spell, will you?" said Queenie), Avery's message, what she had overheard of the conversation among Harry and the Blacks, what Harry had said to her and Regulus, and what she mulled over her walk around the lake — that perhaps she would not join … for now.

Upon hearing that Queenie slumped in immense relief.

"I'll be honest with you, Bellatrix. I did panic when I got your letter because … well, I was afraid you would join."

"Why?"

"This Harry fellow is right. It is dangerous. We hear about the raids even in Romania — how brutal it is and how it turns into a small-scale war when the Death Eaters confront the Aurors. You are too young to be a part of that."

"Why does everyone forget that I am of age?" Bellatrix cried.

"Yes, but you're not even done with your school."

"Why don't you join, then? You're old enough," she said. "I'm surprised your parents didn't force you to join or marry a Death Eater, to be honest."

"Oh they tried," said Queenie airily. "Couldn't bear the thought of their only child dying prematurely in a battlefield, so they wanted me to become an obedient little house wife of a Death Eater."

Bellatrix snorted. From what she had gathered about Queenie in the last few months of their acquaintance, Queenie Greengrass was the last person she imagined to be "obedient." Taming Queenie seemed preposterous and impossible like successfully taming a dragon.

"How did you convince them of otherwise, then?"

Queenie laughed. "Convince them? Does leaving the country right after graduation count as convincing? I only drop by once in a while when I want to and bolt away even before they can finish the sentence with the word marriage in it."

"But aren't you interested in aiding the war effort?"

Queenie fiddled with the dragon hide bootstraps with her fingers. "My passion lies with the creatures, Bellatrix. Yes, it might have sprouted from a rebellious sentiment because my parents don't think magical creatures are worth their consideration unless they're beautiful or have some contribution as potions ingredient or wand crafting material."

Bellatrix pursed her lips.

Queenie turned to face her. She leaned into the couch, further burying herself into the plush cushions. As she curled up, she looked much smaller especially compared to the enormous cushion.

"Why do you want to join, Bellatrix?"

"The Dark Lord?" asked Bellatrix incredulously. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I know the 'obvious' reasons others would join, but I want to hear _your_ reason," said Queenie evenly.

Bellatrix stroked her wand. "Obviously, for the cause. The Wizarding World is better off without muggles and mudbloods."

Queenie cocked her head. "Really? Do you still think that when you've seen other muggleborn students at Hogwarts? They're not totally worthless, from what I've seen. In fact, they make excellent wizards and witches."

Bellatrix eyed her oddly. "You say the same thing as Andromeda."

She grinned. "Smart girl, your sister."

"But they pose threats," Bellatrix protested.

"What, so do acromantulas. But I don't see wizards and witches trying to burn down the Forbidden Forest to massacre them."

"That's because other creatures live there."

"And other creatures live in the muggle world too."

Bellatrix bristled. "The Dark Lord's agenda is not burning down the muggle world, just killing all the muggles in it."

"Statistically, wizards and witches are more likely to die from grindylow attack than from encounters with muggles. Why don't you contact the Dark Lord and tell him he'll do the Wizarding World more favor by targeting grindylow than muggles?" said Queenie in overly serious tone. "Oh, and not to mention hinkypunks. Nasty bastards. We have those around our bogs and wetlands, and a lot of people died because of them until we dealt with them."

Bellatrix growled in frustration. "What's your point, Queenie?" she demanded. It was probably past midnight, and she was staying up talking to Queenie Greengrass about the ethics of the Dark Lord's agenda, not that she minded her company.

"My point is, Bellatrix, I think a smart and wonderful person like you have something much better to do in this world than joining the Death Eaters whose goals are quite questionable."

Bellatrix avoided her avid gaze. "But muggles pose a whole different level of threat than grindylows, Queenie. Or hinkypunks. The worst grindylows and hinkypunks can do is attack a few wizards, and their attack is on an individual level. But muggles, they are capable of more than that — they have armies and have you seen what some of them do to each other? It's horrendous!"

Queenie opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Yes?" they both said in unison.

Dumbledore's head poked in. "Ah, ladies. Still here, I see. I'm afraid to tell you it is over midnight and Miss Black must return to her dormitories."

Merlin, it seemed time flew by every time she was talking with Queenie.

"Children need to sleep," said Queenie, ruffling Bellatrix's hair.

She squawked in astonishment. "Queenie!" Bellatrix raised her hands to flatten her hair.

"Do you wish to stay overnight, Miss Greengrass? It is quite late," asked Dumbledore.

"And sleep where? Next to Bella?" Queenie arched her eyebrow at Dumbledore. She then turned to Bellatrix and waggled her eyebrows.

Bellatrix cursed inwardly as colours rose in her cheeks against her wills.

Queenie laughed and lightly tapped on her flaming cheeks. "I'm joking. I need to leave anyways. Got my shift tomorrow."

She stood up and stretched her arms and back.

Bellatrix also stood up and felt a surge of disappointment when she realised they had spent most of their limited time together arguing.

Queenie noticed her frowning and smiled wistfully as if she read Bellatrix's mind. Then she walked up to her and hugged her tightly. Bellatrix sighed and returned the hug, burying her face into Queenie's hair. Her hair smelled like smoke and wilderness.

"It was really nice seeing you. Thank you for stopping by," Bellatrix mumbled into her hair.

They parted. Queenie smiled up at her. "Same here. Sorry if I disturbed your beauty sleep by barging in this late. Not that you need beauty sleep."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Oh!" Her eyes widened as she remembered something. "You can finally eat Hogwarts food!"

Queenie's eyes widened in return, and she grinned wickedly. "Oh yeah! Merlin, I'm going to pack so much food!" She fished out a pouch out of her pockets. "Thank Merlin for charms."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I will escort you to the kitchens, then. I'm sure the house elves would not mind cooking for an alumnus at this hour. Good night, Miss Black."

Queenie hugged her again. "Night, Bella."

"You too."

Later, she lay down on her bed and stared at the green curtains she put up on her bedpost while she recounted much of what happened today.

Then one thought that didn't even occur to her at the time popped into her mind.

'_Because I had underestimated the war!'_

It was evident that Harry had come out of the war scarred in mind and body, and he didn't wish such fate on anyone, especially her and Regulus.

But which war?

He was too young to be even alive during Grindelwald's war. Even if he was, he must have been an infant or a toddler. Was he involved in a different war before he came to England? But from what could gather from Harry's remarks, it sounded like a calamitous war — surely, such war wouldn't have gone unnoticed in Britain?

So which war was he in?

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Harry took a deep breath, his expression closed off.

It was inevitable. There was no point in running away or delaying it. Too many people were dying already.

Bellatrix's words echoed in his mind. '_You're a coward who wouldn't step up to do anything.'_

_Stay low, Harry. Be unnoticeable. Any noticeable predator is bound to starve to death._

He stepped forward.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Evan Rosier was a Curse-Breaker by day. By night, he was a Death Eater.

He was not in the Inner Circle of the Dark Lord, but considering he had served the Dark Lord for less than a year, he had swiftly risen through the ranks compared to his fellow initiates at that time. Evan ignored what the older Death Eaters in the inner circle said about his fast advancement — that he only rose through the ranks because his physical appearance reminded the Dark Lord of his younger days, discrediting his Curse-Breaking expertise. If Evan was honest with himself, he'd say he was quite offended, considering the Dark Lord's waxy face with blurred features was nothing like his, but he never voiced it out loud. The Dark Lord instilled awe and fear with his absolute power and its allure enough without the aid of a handsome mask.

He rubbed his thumb and index finger together out of habit, feeling magical chalk powder that perpetually stained his finger from drawing runes around artefacts and traps.

Evan scanned the crowd with a sharp gaze. He noticed some influential figures among the newly 'recruited' people. He knew they sought opportunities to benefit themselves from the Dark Lord's growing power and influence. There was an air of nervous excitement and anticipation around them.

_Fools._ Evan sneered. Alliance with the Dark Lord was never an 'alliance.' It was more of a blind, absolute allegiance. It was an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty, binding one's soul to the Dark Lord's wishes and whims. Evan absently rubbed his left arm and shuddered. The pain was still fresh from his own initiation.

He surveyed the group once more: there were others who joined the Dark Lord for the cause, not for self-interest; there were few sniveling children freshly out of school, no doubt wanting to seek quick glory and network. A good share of elderly men and women who were the top of their fields, young women with fierce looks in their eyes …

Evan narrowed his eyes as he spotted a man who seemed to be around his age. Early twenties, perhaps? The man's unwavering green eyes met his appraising one. He stood firm, his expression closed off, paying no heed to other young initiates beside him who were chattering nervously among themselves in hushed tones.

Evan's assessment of the man was interrupted when one of the Death Eaters raised her hand to signal the initiation.

One by one, each wizard or witch would enter the Dark Lord's chambers. They would offer what they have — skills, wealth, and power, whatever it may be. And they would receive the Mark. Often times the Dark Lord would call in the others to take away the ones that fainted from the agony of taking the Dark Mark.

Excitement quickly dampened as some of the younger initiates anxiously craned their necks to get a view of the state of those who were dragged out of the Dark Lord's chamber. In contrast, the more experienced Death Eaters stood upright with immaculate discipline.

After what it seemed like hours have passed, with muffled screams coming out of the room as wizards and witches were Marked, it was Harry's turn.

Two Death Eaters stepped inside the room and came out hauling a fainted wizard in their arms. Harry could hear the others gulp anxiously and fidget restlessly. He hoped they were brave enough to acknowledge their fears and turn their backs and flee when they had the chance.

"Next."

Harry stepped into the room. The door slammed shut behind him with an ominous thud.

The room was completely dark except for three candles dimly lit up but not bright enough to give him comfort in the total darkness. Harry shivered as the unearthly chill clung to him. Even with the flickering candle light, the room felt eerily still. Too still. Even the ups and downs of his chest while he breathed felt too conspicuous and too noticeable to an invisible predator.

As he cautiously took steps further into the chamber, Harry could barely make out the silhouette of the altar-like throne and the person lazily splayed out. The sides of the throne had dark green marble serpents coiling upwards, their mouths gaping with silver fangs shining lethally in the dark.

The fiery crimson eyes blazed from the darkness and pierced into Harry's. Harry felt cold wash down the length of his spine. The sheer … _inhumanness_ of those eyes was like a gaping mouth of a fathomless vortex that Harry had to consciously root his mind in place so as not to be sucked into it and lose himself.

The red eyes narrowed into slits.

"People normally kneel before me," a voice mused. It had an oddly hollow tone to it.

Harry swiftly kneeled down, keeping his head bowed. His left knee protested against the cold, hard floor but he kept silent. He placed his right arm on his other upright knee. There was no sound other than Harry's heartbeat and his bated breath.

The figure finally slithered up and loomed over Harry.

"What have you to offer me?"

* * *

><p>AN: Evan Rosier first makes a brief appearance at the end of chapter 6

I finally noticed this website tends to eat away some words in the document when you upload the file. I did go back and tried to fix them, but if there are still some words missing, please let me know.


	12. Part 2: Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

See chapter 10 for warnings.

A/N: Wow. I had the pleasure of receiving the most _vehement _reactions, both positive and negative, regarding the last chapter.

Prepare for another drama.

Thanks to everyone sticking around and reading this fic.

* * *

><p>Part 2<p>

Chapter 3

* * *

><p>It was late night, and silence descended in the office that was largely undisturbed other than the occasional soft ding from silver instruments on the shelves.<p>

Albus Dumbledore just finished going over the Order of the Phoenix reports and was about to move onto the summary of the recent Governors' meeting.

Soft chiming of the bell notified Albus that he was soon to have a visitor. He stood up to light another candle. After a brief moment, someone stumbled into the office, heavily panting. The man blindly reached out to gain balance and ended up knocking out some glass ornaments on the shelves. Ignoring the ear-splitting shatter, the intruder heavily leaned against the book shelves nearby the entrance and closed his eyes in anguish. The room was silent other than his rough breathing.

Fawkes hovered over to the man, letting out a low trill, and landed on his shoulder, carefully nudging the man's messy jet-black hair with its beak. Fawkes smelled strongly of burnt ashes. It feathers looked as if he gently blew on them, the feathers would turn into ashes. The man weakly lifted his arm to barely stroke Fawkes and dropped his arm to his side with a pained grunt.

Alarmed, Albus strode forward, reaching out towards the man to help him stand, but the man blindly lashed out with his right arm to keep Albus at bay, meanwhile tenderly cradling his left.

"Harry," Albus called.

The man leaned back, tilted his head back, and opened his eyes, staring tiredly at a certain painting.

Albus's eyes followed his gaze.

Next to the arrays of the portraits of past Headmasters of Hogwarts, all of them now wide awake and staring at the man and Albus in silence with wide eyes, was a peculiar painting – a muggle painting, in fact. It was a painting of a barren, desolate land with clocks shaped as if they were melting. There were also objects that vaguely resembled facial features in the middle that also had a melting clock on it. It was Salvador Dali's painting.

Albus could still remember the day the man had strode into his office with the painting tucked under his arm. He had heard of magical painters using magical ingredients to mix with the paints, and some giving those magical paints to muggle painters. Just like how magical portraits have different properties from muggle portraits, paintings drawn by muggles with magical paints – regardless of painters being aware of its true nature– would have certain magical properties depending on the will of the artist and the content.

Albus could not help but note the irony of the name of the painting, _the Persistence of Memory_. During one of the earlier encounters with the man, Albus had tried to carefully delve into the man's situation.

"… Memory Charm?" he had mused.

Carrow had scoffed dismissively. "Charm? Too innocuous a word for these … _chains_ on my memories, don't you think?" Albus had been almost frightened by the immediate blank look on the man's face that soon followed.

"Harry," he called again. "Show me."

Harry scrunched his eyes shut as if any sound entering his ears was causing him great pain. After a moment he gingerly rolled up his sleeve. Harry drew a sharp breath as his fingers accidentally brushed against the Mark and angry-looking, swelled up flesh around it.

Fawkes crooned wistfully and tilted its head to drop its tears.

"No, Fawkes," Harry sighed and gently pushed Fawkes away. Fawkes squawked indignantly in protest.

"I need to remember this pain," said Harry solemnly. He clenched his teeth and took deep breaths as if the Mark pulsated and sent a wave of excruciating pain in his veins.

"Harry."

Harry barely lifted his head up, his face conveying fatigue as if he had lived too long with not enough strength to even breathe.

"You didn't have to join him," said Albus quietly.

Harry let out a bitter laughter, fatigue turning his laughter into a dull croak. "Then what was I to do?" he asked in a low voice. "This way, I get to obtain insider's knowledge about the raids and Voldemort himself. And don't tell me you're not at least glad to have someone among his ranks to feed you information."

Albus remained silent.

"I haven't forgot my initial goal, Albus. As crucial as that is, I cannot ignore these raids killing hundreds of people."

"The Order is doing their best."

"And they would do better with me aiding them from the inside."

Albus could not deny that.

"If I'm here to save people's lives, isn't it hypocritical of me to ignore the casualty happening right now? Anyways, I'm already Marked so there's no point in telling me how ridiculous my decision was."

He leaned back again, tipping his head back on the shelf behind him with a thunk.

Dumbledore stared at the man, his eyes welling up. "You sacrificed so much …"

Harry tensed and brusquely cut him off. "Don't."

Albus bowed his head in shame and sorrow. "I am so sorry, Harry."

"Whatever for?"

"For making you go through this…"

"It's not _your _fault. You didn't make me." He sighed heavily. "You did what you deemed best. And I'm doing the same."

Harry blinked and blood drained from his face. "A, Albus – Obliviate me now." He shook his head as if he wanted to physically shake off the memories.

Albus waited. A familiar fascination swept over him as he witnessed the momentary lapse. Soon Harry's face blanked, and he rubbed his forehead, wincing. "What —?"

Albus remained silent.

Harry heaved himself up, but swayed precariously. Albus grasped his shoulders to steady him. Harry tried to swat him away. "I came here to talk to the Sorting Hat."

"At this hour? You should rest first."

"No," Harry started to protest, but his eyes rolled back and his body almost collapsed on the floor, but Albus caught him in time.

"Rest, Harry."

A wrinkled hand covered Harry's vision, and soon he was asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

When Harry came about, he bolted upright with a startle, or tried to as he collapsed back with a barely suppressed grunt of pain. He was lying on a couch in Dumbledore's office.

He checked his watch. He was passed out for an hour.

Harry stared bleakly at the ceiling before turning his gaze to the top of the shelf to his side. The Sorting Hat returned his gaze with an uplifted wrinkle that was construed as distant amusement.

"Do you think I can pull out the sword?" he asked the Sorting Hat.

The Sorting Hat didn't even flinch at his knowledge.

Instead it drawled, "What does your heart tell you?"

He sat up with a heavy sigh, wincing as the motion strained his left arm.

His left arm was still searing with pain. It felt as if instead of blood, acid was flowing in his veins.

"I don't know. At this point it might be easier for me to kill the basilisk and get the venom."

"Perhaps."

Harry stilled and glared at the Sorting Hat.

The Sorting Hat didn't have eyes but Harry could feel its contemplative gaze on him.

"Do you think you have what it takes to summon the sword?"

Harry let out a dry chuckle. "I'm not so sure. Some days I don't think I even have an ounce of bravery left in me, and instead it's filled with fear and doubt. There's … so much fear in me."

"Fear of what?"

"I … don't know what I'm doing. It's all so hard to get a grip of everything when you don't have … everything. And on top of that, I, I fear for their safety. They … they've become so dear to me, so precious, I — it frightens me. I don't know what I'd do if they got hurt," said Harry weakly. "But I won't let anything happen to them."

"Ah, the Blacks. Oh the look on everyone's face when I Sorted Sirius Black into Gryffindor … All Sortings are memorable but that one was quite a spectacle," said the Hat chortled. "He asked, you see. Sirius Black asked to be put in Gryffindor. I told him he would go far with his talent and sharp mind, and Slytherin would be good for him — but ... As he was fervently arguing against Slytherin, there was a spark of bravery and loyalty underneath the Slytherin façade of his mind. A remarkable bravery. He would think he convinced me to Sort him into Gryffindor, but no, sometimes the mind is so complex to be evenly assigned into four Houses, and sometimes you need to delve in deeper. It became evident to me that Sirius Black belonged in Gryffindor House."

"He … asked to be put in Gryffindor?" Harry whispered, bewildered.

"Oh yes. I think meeting young James Potter on the train had been a little push that tipped young Sirius Black's Gryffindor sides into action."

"That's…" Harry trailed off. He half-smiled in disbelief. "He's just like …"

The Sorting Hat clamped its mouth shut as the man's expression clouded.

"Dammit, that paining," Harry muttered as he clutched his head and gently massaged it, trying to subdue his headache.

Albus's head poked into view around the corner. "Ah, Harry, you are awake. I made you some tea."

"Sorry, Headmaster. It is getting late, and it's best I return to my quarters. Thank you for the tea though."

Albus nodded. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry walked down the stairs out of Dumbledore's office and leaned against the stone wall for a moment to steady himself. He felt like he needed at least two days of sleeping.

As Harry was nearing his quarters, he saw a figure walking towards his direction.

Swallowing the pain as the Mark throbbed, he wiped off the grimace from his face to replace it with a neutral smile.

It was Ayla Atesh, the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor. Her golden tattoo shined brightly in the dimly lit corridor. It made Harry wonder if the rumors of her tattoo being some sort of Lumos or Fiendfyre mishap were true or had some truth in it.

"Professor Atesh," Harry greeted.

"Ah, Mister … Carrow," said Atesh slowly.

That strange drawl of an intonation.

Whenever he had the chance to talk to Atesh in staff meetings or during the Great Hall feasts, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Atesh _knew_ something that he didn't. Her dark eyes had an uncanny gleam in them, as if to whisper lies as well as truth.

"Caught any students out of their beds?"

She shook her head. "No. What are you doing up so late?"

"Oh, paying a visit to the Headmaster for a chat."

A look of alarm flashed but quickly disappeared behind her cool mask. Atesh narrowed her eyes.

"How was it?"

"The usual. Offering me a lemon drop. He wanted to talk about the unusually frequent incidences of poisoning at school."

"I see," said Atesh slowly.

Harry bit back a tired sigh and looked down at his watch. "It's getting late. I will retire to my room. Good night, Professor Atesh."

"Good night, Mister Carrow."

Her gaze was still fixed on Harry as he walked past her.

"Your calculations were wrong, you know," she called behind him.

Harry whirled around. "I beg your pardon?" he asked sharply.

"You caused a glitch in magic and time. That's bound to cause some incongruences."

Harry looked at her suspiciously. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Atesh scoffed. Then her eyes searched his face and widened. "You really don't know," she gasped.

"Don't know what?" Harry snapped, wearily rubbing his forehead. His headache was worsening and the throbbing pain on his arm was not helping.

"We'll talk about this later, Professor Atesh." Harry barely uttered the words as exhaustion caught up with him like tidal waves.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Harry stayed in the Infirmary bed for three days with fever and delirium. Every day, the Blacks visited him to keep him company in his sickly state. They were starting to get restless as he had yet to recover.

"How is he today?" asked Sirius, swinging his bag off the chair next to Harry's bed with a soft thump.

"Shh, he's sleeping."

The Blacks stared at Harry's sunken face in solemn silence.

"Sir —?" a lazy voice drawled from the entrance.

"Oh sod off, Aubrey," Sirius called out.

"And you too, Lucinda. Don't even think about trying to slip a love potion into an unconscious man's mouth," said Bellatrix, rolling her eyes.

There were some rustling in the doorway and some muttering that sounded like, "sodding Blacks."

Sirius leaned down to whisper into Harry's ears. "Don't worry, Harry. We're here to protect your virtues."

Andromeda snickered.

"Why can't Madam Pomfrey give him any potions?" Regulus asked, eyeing Harry's limp body in concern.

"Dunno. All she said to me was that he wasn't responding too well to any of the potions she gave him," Narcissa replied.

"Look at you, Harry. Shucking your duties as a Mediwizard, getting all sick," Andromeda chided with a grimace.

Silence descended. It felt too odd and shocking to see Harry in such sickly state. For them, Harry was the epitome of strength, both magical and internal, and to see him hardly coherent or conscious, it struck in their hearts that Harry was as human as them.

Then all of a sudden, Sirius gasped as a silvery stag materialized out of thin air.

Regulus eyed the stag in wonder. "What — ?"

"It's Harry's patronus," Bellatrix told Regulus.

The stag seemed restless, continuously trotting around Harry's bed and gently nudging its nose at Harry's fever-red forehead.

"It seems like … accidental magic?" she speculated. But Patronus Charm was an advanced magic — was it possible to cast it in a fit of accidental magic?

Her eyes traced Harry's frail form — sweat-drenched black curls were stuck on his forehead, his brows creased.

A pained groan escaped from his parched lips and Harry shifted to his sides. Then a silvery otter darted out of nowhere closely followed by a shimmering Jack Russell terrier. Two bickered and chased each other around Harry's bed, much to the Blacks' amusement as well as bafflement. There was a burst of bright light, and a hare also joined in the chase, bouncing along the midair. The stag clucked its hooves as if to show its disapproval. Beside the stag emerged a horse, tossing its silvery mane.

"Can a wizard have more than one Patronus form?" asked Regulus.

"Not that I'm aware of," Andromeda replied, eyeing the translucent animals in wonder.

There was a faint noise coming from the bed, and silvery animals dissipated into thin air.

The Blacks held their breath as they watched Harry's eyelids flutter, and he cracked his eyes open. Harry's gaunt face broke into a faint smile as his eyes slowly swept his surroundings.

"You — " he croaked. "You all look so miserable."

Sirius sniffed. "You should see yourself then." Because it was true. Harry looked as if he were a heartbeat away from death's door.

"Sirius, are you crying?" Andromeda gaped.

Sirius bristled, heat rising to his cheeks. "No!" he furiously rubbed his nose. "It's just James' hair in my eyes. He's — shedding. Potter's sodding hair is everywhere … And this is the first time Harry's conscious in three days."

Harry let out a weak chuckle and closed his eyes again, falling asleep.

Madam Pomfrey interrupted their musings. "Okay, you lot," she said. "It's time for your classes."

Bellatrix sighed. "We'll be back, Harry. Get well soon," she whispered and brushed her fingers gently against Harry's limp, cold hand.

As if to finally answer to the Blacks' and much of Hogwarts student body's wishes, after another day in bed, he fully recovered and resumed his position as a Mediwizard.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Lucretia landed harshly, spraining her ankle, as the portkey transported her to the familiar soil of her homeland. She breathed in the crisp air of October. Strenuously acquired portkey provided quite a bumpy trip given its shady background. She had to resort to New Zealand's equivalent of Knockturn Alley to get a hold of a portkey since she was banned from international travels by her family.

It took her ages to figure out the spell on herself and dismantling it. The magic cast on her was less stringent than the one on Cassi — she figured the Blacks didn't want to completely dispose of her when she could be useful to them as an asset to expanding their influence by remarrying another pureblood family. The Blacks probably expected her to break the spell and pay them a visit to strike a deal. After all, that was what she did when she first broke the spell in August. But that meeting had gone downhill when they told her to abandon Cassi and forsake her right as a parent so that they could renounce Cassi from the Black family. And there was no way she would do that.

The Concealment Curse was still on her. That curse felt far more degrading than any part of the banishment, to have her identity erased and unacknowledged. If the Concealment Curse worked like donning an invisibility cloak, it would have made the matters better, but no, the curse wasn't nowhere near convenient and innocent. The Blacks had originally cast it with the intention of preventing her from pleading her case to the Ministry. But that wasn't the only setback. She couldn't even go to Gringotts because there was no way she could access her vault when the goblins didn't even know she was right in front of them yelling. Lucretia couldn't even consult the magical libraries in Britain when came back the first time.

Cassi could not accompany her due to the tracking charm the Blacks had cast on her. If Cassi stepped on England's soil, the spells would activate and let the Blacks know of Cassi's presence. There was an additional curse on Cassi: from what Lucretia could gather from her research and judging by its Dark nature, she could only speculate with trepidation what the curse would do to Cassi if she came back without receiving the elder Blacks' permission. She hated to leave her behind but she'd rather have her daughter resent her than have Cassi killed.

Tibby, their house elf, would take care of her as she had since Cassi was born. Lucretia and Cassi might have been banished from the Black family, but Tibby didn't owe her loyalty to the Blacks. She was theirs, and they were her family, staying by their side ever since her husband Ignatius had saved her from her abusive owner by tricking the wizard into giving her his clothing. Tibby was always with them, taking care of them, when death took Ignatius away and grief numbed both Lucretia and Cassi for days. And after the banishment, Tibby followed them across the ocean, not deterred by the Concealment Curse, using house elf magic. Lucretia was grateful of Tibby's presence as it was the only familiar thing that Cassi could hold onto of her life before this disaster.

Lucretia gently stroke the handgun in her purse. Ever since they had been … relocated to a muggle and squib area, she decided to seek other methods of protection and arming herself besides magic. There were quite a few American wizards and witches as well as squibs in the area, and they were most diligent in smuggling guns and rifles for protection and entertainment purposes for hunting games. Of course, at first she dismissed them — how could she, a witch, sink so low to the point of using a muggle contraption? It was undignified, barbaric and far too messy, lacking tact and a certain art of grace that wands had even if one were to achieve the same means.

But she did have to admit the efficiency and the speed. Witnessing a brawl that rapidly turned nasty between a squib and a wizard, and seeing how quick it was to take away someone's life in a mere second — it terrified her. The weapon was carelessly lethal, just one trigger was enough to end a life.

But if the worst came to the worst ….

As a mother, she had to prepare herself and her child, against the world and their families. She would not leave Cassi defenseless against their family armed with magic.

The cool, smooth surface was still quite jarring to her. She was used to her own wand's coarse but firm grip she could hold with her whole hands, not just her finger around the trigger like the gun.

She wasn't in denial. Or perhaps she was. If … if what Bellatrix and Cassi had said were true, that Cassi was able to perform magic before, then something must have happened. Lucretia needed to _know_ — know for her sake, but most importantly, for her daughter's sake.

She sought out prestigious libraries outside England and consulted hundreds of tomes and journals and anecdotes about turning into a squib but she only found a handful. Even those turned out to be some purebloods' dramatic, far-fetched conclusion to a momentary lapse in their magic due to old age or muggle ailments. Lucretia wondered if Cassi had contract a muggle disease but all those entries mentioned only few days with absence of magic, the longest being a week. Her daughter had not been able to do any magic for months now.

Lucretia wanted to consult Harry as soon as she got the chance to escape the Blacks' persistent surveillance. It took her days to find out that Harry was now at Hogwarts as a Mediwizard. Perhaps Harry, or even Dumbledore could help her dismantle this curse and provide some answers. Surely at least Dumbledore could see through the Concealment curse if Harry couldn't. Lucretia intended to ask for access to the Restricted Section if they were as clueless as her regarding her daughter's case.

She headed straight to the Infirmary. If she remembered correctly, Harry's room would be nearby.

" — What — world —"

"— calculations — foolish — "

She could hear Harry's voice and a female voice coming from inside the door.

"What do you mean?" Lucretia heard Harry ask.

She was about to knock to attempt alerting her presence when she heard,

"There must have been some strange occurrence around you — like werewolf or thestral rampage, time turners shattering, strange weather, or — oh I don't' know, a wizard child turning into a squib."

Lucretia's breath hitched. _What?_

"Wait, what do you mean a squib?"

There was a sigh. "Conservation of magic, Harry. The Law of Conservation? When you traveled in time and bringing your magic with you, it upset the balance. In order to maintain the magical quota, someone else's magic was extinguished."

"But why a child's?"

"Any child before acquiring a formal wand possesses a very volatile magical core, which only stabilizes within the child once they bond with their wand. I suspect it's easier to meddle with unstable cores than with firmly rooted magical cores in adults."

"So any child before 11 might have lost their magic because of me?"

"Not quite. People whose lives are influenced by magical happenings usually have some sort of pull towards one another. It's likely that you already encountered her or soon will be."

"… _Oh my god_…" Harry breathed.

"Time traveling is a risky business, Harry."

"You do realize you have to Obliviate me after this, don't you? Or I'll have to."

Lucretia felt all the blood rushing into her head, making her dizzy with the deluge of information. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Lucretia turned on her heels and rushed out of Hogwarts.

She had focused her research on blood, thinking perhaps the Black madness was manifesting in a different way. But she had never considered this.

Lucretia needed to check. She had to be sure.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Harry and Ayla began their strange, irregular afternoon tea time. It was hard to say what the nature of it was. Friendship? Camaraderie? Understanding?

It was surprisingly easy to maintain conversations without forcing them and easier to find solace in each other's silence despite all the differences they had and their obscure pasts. Ayla knew not to push against the doors without being invited first, and it seemed Harry knew that too.

It was harder to figure out her steps when she was talking to a man with inconsistent memories. There'd be good days and bad days, entirely subjective, and Harry might beg to differ on her way of distinguishing those. She'd carefully tread through the conversation by asking the right questions to figure out what was going on.

On bad days, she would tell Harry about the progress of the Blacks in her class, of Sirius and James' antics, of Regulus and Narcissa's silent strength, of Sirius and Andromeda's ingenuity, of Bellatrix's power and talent. Harry was bursting with pride as he listened. Other times, they would talk about her past projects in the Department of Mysteries and Harry would make suggestions and ask questions, or they would talk about Hogwarts in general and its student body.

On good days, she would inquire about other things. Like this day.

"Don't you think it's imperative that you remember everything?" Ayla asked, eyeing Harry and the painting anxiously.

"No. And it's not like I can retrieve the memories anyway … My Secret Keeper is dead," said Harry quietly.

"I have a way around that."

Harry stopped dead in his pacing. "What? How?"

She cast another layer of charm to make sure they were not overheard. "I worked with the Veil in the Death Chamber. Do not underestimate the power of the Veil, Harry. Many have been careless around it."

"Don't worry, I don't plan on visiting Department of Mysteries in the near future."

"But, Harry, this whole thing might be easier if you remembered everything."

"No," Harry said firmly.

Ayla blinked. "What — why?"

"You think I don't want to remember? I do! Do you know what it feels like to have your mind in a jumble like incomplete puzzle pieces?"

He shook his head, letting out a hollow laughter.

"I can't. I _can't_ afford to get my memories back."

"But look around you. Think of all the things you can do, Harry. All the people you're surrounding yourself with may be —"

"Precisely! _Don't you see?_ I may as well be talking and laughing with future murderers who will have killed my friends. I can't bear the thought. I – I _can't_ know, Ayla. I don't want to know."

Seeing Harry's solemn face, Ayla closed her mouth, her eyes softening.

"Oh, Harry." She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He rubbed his face tiredly.

"Unless I make a difference, there is no point in remembering what I had and lost," said Harry softly. "And they might not even become murderers if I get to the root of the problem."

If they haven't become murderers already, that is.

"How's that going?"

"It's… quite draining," said Harry tiredly.

Indeed, Ayla could see dark bags under his eyes. Very few people knew of Harry Carrow's Death Eater status at Hogwarts. Harry didn't ask how she even knew.

He merely smiled tiredly in response to her searching eyes. Harry's face clouded once again, and Ayla snapped her mouth shut.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

Weeks passed, and Lucretia finally broke the Concealment Curse but not without price. She lost a significant amount of blood and it left her weak for days. Perhaps it was unwise of her to break that spell considering what she was about to do. But …

Lucretia visited Hogwarts again. And she headed straight to Harry's office, wasting no time.

There were murmured voices coming from inside.

She stepped closer, ignoring her racing heart.

The conversation came to a halt.

"It seems you have a visitor. We will talk about this later."

The doors swung open, and a dark-skinned woman with a blazing golden pattern on her face walked out, cordially nodding to Lucretia.

"Lucretia?" Harry looked surprised, and delighted to see her. "Lucretia!" It had been several months since they saw each other before Harry's and Lucretia's respective disappearances. His jubilant smile made Lucretia's insides churn. Or was there a shadow of guilt in his eyes?

"How have you been doing?" he asked.

Lucretia could not look at Harry. Instead she fixed her gaze on the painting behind Harry. The painting featured melting clocks. Perhaps it was the way clocks hung limply against a branch, a corner, or a something that resembled a nose bridge, that the painting seemed too surreal and nihilistic. A quiet echo of despair and bitterness. It seemed to mock her ordeals in the past months, mocking her and her daughter.

Harry's excitement subdued, and he searched her face with worried eyes. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes took in her unkempt clothes and hair and finally the deranged look on her face.

Lucretia could barely move her lips. "You …" She snapped her mouth shut, feeling her throat constrict. Her mouth went dry.

"Do you want to sit down?" Harry asked gently, ushering her in. "I'll make some tea."

As she stared at Harry busying himself with tea assortment, she couldn't bottle up her boiling feelings inside.

Lucretia blurted, "Cassi became a squib."

Harry stopped dead. Then he closed his eyes and a pained look crossed his face. "Yes, I know," said Harry softly. "I heard from Bellatrix."

When he opened his eyes, the tormented look in Harry's eyes made the green orbs shine brighter.

"You heard our conversation the other day, didn't you?" Harry said quietly.

Lucretia nodded weakly. "Yes," she whispered.

Suddenly Harry looked old as if he lived too long. His shoulders slumped and he crouched forward, hunching his back. Harry stared numbly at his knees.

He spoke faintly. "I wondered … perhaps … that's why I met you on that day in Diagon Alley. Maybe the magic recognized Cassi's sacrifice to me. And… maybe it meant for me to make it up to you and Cassi."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"_You _… made Cassi into a squib?" Lucretia whispered, still difficult to believe after finding out a week ago.

"Yes, it seems so," said Harry with difficulty, collapsing into his seat. He buried his face in his hands with a shuddering sigh. "My very existence hinges upon Cassi's misfortune. I … robbed her of her magic."

"And she wouldn't be one if you didn't travel through time," she repeated. She found herself having trouble breathing as blood rushed to her head and ears.

Harry shook his head slowly with a grimace. "No."

Lucretia gasped as garish yellow binding of magic emerged from Harry and the painting and shot towards her, tightly winding her wrist. Then they dissolved into her skin.

"I'm sorry, Lucretia, but you're now bound to keep the secrecy of it. You won't be able to mention or write it to anyone else — not even to me," said Harry quietly.

Lucretia bit down on her lip.

"_Why?"_ she seethed. "Why did you travel through time?"

Harry averted his gaze, staring at the floor like a lost child.

"I … wanted to change the future, my present. We lost too many lives —"

She fired a nonverbal spell. Harry's wand flew out of his hand into hers. Harry visibly stiffened.

"You ruined my daughter's life for the sake of saving the lives in the future," she said in disbelief.

"I didn't know — I regretted my decision every day ever since I found out what it cost Cassi," Harry said in a pleading tone.

"_Cost?" _she repeated incredulously. "Her whole life changed!" Lucretia shouted shrilly. "Do you even realize what you put her through? What the Heads of the Blacks planned for her once they found out she was a squib?"

Harry looked at her with wide, fearful eyes.

"They thought of _killing_ her," Lucretia gritted out. "Good that they settled on exiling Cassi to New Zealand instead, right?"

Lucretia scoffed derisively at Harry's shocked face. "Oh don't give me that look," she spat. She took a menacing step forward and thrust her finger at Harry's face. "Don't — you — _dare_ — tell me you didn't expect that to happen. You knew what the Blacks are like when you tutored your precious Bellatrix and others and seeing the pressure they were under regarding magical capacity."

"I — I didn't know," Harry whispered, shakily taking few steps back. "I didn't know it used Cassi's magic as its source."

The horrified, guilt-stricken look in his eyes told Lucretia it was true.

But it didn't make things any better. No, it didn't.

Cassi's ghastly face when she woke up in middle of the night from a vicious nightmare — how she sobbed and pleaded in her sleep to Irma, Pollux, Arcturus, and even to Lucretia not to abandon her for being a squib. Cassi's pained look whenever Lucretia cast magic in the house — Lucretia couldn't bring herself to cast any magic whenever she was with Cassi; the haunted yearning look on her face was too much for Lucretia to see without feeling her heart shredding into pieces.

"Would you have still done it? If you knew?"

Harry looked away and fell silent. That was all she needed.

"Then you shall die in the terms you've brought onto her," said Lucretia, slowly raising the handgun with her fingers tightly wrapped around the trigger, aiming it directly at Harry's heart.

Harry froze.

Excellent Harry might be at Healing magic, but even a talented wizard like Harry could not survive a shot in the heart, an instantaneous kill.

She let out a dry, desperate laughter. "Maybe if you die, all the inconsistencies and incongruous changes that occurred will reverse themselves."

He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting back and forth from her face to the gun.

"Do you think they will, Harry?" she said softly, her lips trembling. "After all, you know more about magic's wonders and woes than I do. And this whole time traveling scheme was yours. Surely you must have done extensive research on this."

Harry opened his mouth and closed, and opened again. "I wish I had a definite answer, Lucretia. And if my death is what is takes for Cassi to get her magic back, then I will willingly die a hundred time and more."

Her hands were shaking. So were her legs.

But flashes of Cassi's lackadaisical eyes, her whole body spiritless as she wordlessly stared out the window crossed her mind, and it brought the cold fury back.

She clenched her jaw and steadied her trembling knees.

"But Lucretia, please, listen to me. In the future I come from, there was no Cassi Black or Prewett. If I die now, there is no possibility in changing that future."

"Maybe someone altered the Black records because she became a squib — because _you_ came here," she snarled, thrusting the gun forward.

Harry bit his lip. "Maybe. I'm not denying that's also a possibility — that this is all part of an inevitable time loop. But …" Harry's pleading gaze met her steely eyes. "Give me some time, Lucretia. I _will_ find out how to reverse this and give Cassi her magic back. And I will change the future that made her and so many others disappear."

"There is no guarantee that you will succeed."

"But the most I can do is try," said Harry resolutely.

She once again tightened her grip with renewed determination.

"Or you can die right now, Harry."

Harry took a small step toward her, tentatively raising his arms in surrender or trying to placate her — Lucretia didn't know. "You and I both do not know for certain if my death will reverse it. It's possible that nothing may change from now."

Lucretia narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"All I'm saying is, give me time. I won't fail Cassi. I promise you," said Harry firmly.

Lucretia searched Harry's desperate face.

The memory of Cassi's horrified face when Lucretia told her daughter she would be away for a while, thinking Lucretia was lying to her and that she would forever leave and never come back.

Oh how she desperately she wished to give up her magic to have Cassi's magic back, to have Cassi's smile back.

The squib revelation and how the Blacks dealt with it deeply scarred Cassi. Lucretia feared that her vivacious daughter was gone forever, and Cassi would never be confident, be able to trust in herself, or even value herself.

And it was all because of the man in front of her.

She loaded the gun.

"Lucretia, _please_ …"

She pulled the trigger without hesitation. Her upper body jerked from the impact. The sound of gunshot was dulled by a silencer.

A pained cry was torn from Harry as he collapsed onto the floor, clutching his right leg in anguish. Blood was heavily flowing from his shin through the clutch of his shaking fingers.

"That is for the pain you caused my daughter," she said coldly.

She knelt down and shoved Harry's wand into his hands. She knew he wouldn't die from this wound. Lucretia hated herself for not having the heart to let the man die. But he might be the only chance.

She snarled into his ear. "You have exactly until one month before Hogwarts mails its student for acceptance. If you haven't found a way to give my daughter her magic back by then, I swear to Salazar I will kill you as the last resort. Do you understand me?"

Harry gave a shaky nod.

She turned to leave.

"Lucretia …" Harry rasped. She didn't bother to face him but she stayed in her spot. "I'm sorry … I am so sorry."

She said nothing and stormed out, Disapparating as soon as she was behind the wards.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

No one knew of the incident with Lucretia and Harry, except for Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore who tended to his wound. Otherwise, Harry masterfully hid his limp from the students and the staff. It helped that majority of the student body were distracted with upcoming Hogsmeade weekend and Halloween.

Lucinda plopped down on the seat next to Bellatrix, wiping her sweaty forehead with her sleeves. "Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Bellatrix eyed Lucinda's sweaty Quidditch uniform with distaste. Lucinda stuck her tongue out in response.

"I am, but I won't be going with you lot," said Bellatrix.

"What? But Malfoy asked Narcissa out to Madam Puddifoot's, and she accepted it! Merlin knows why," she muttered. "Aren't you going to follow them?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "One Hogsmeade trip doesn't mean reciting marriage vows. Besides, she can fend him off on her own if she needs to. I know Narcissa looks fragile and delicate on the outside, but you should have seen her when Sirius messed up her feather collection. I have never seen the fury of a banshee or a werewolf, but I can definitely imagine what the combination of them is like from watching Narcissa that day." She shuddered. "And just because we're sisters doesn't mean we always hang out and have the same group of friends. Her friends will be trailing after them."

"Then what are you going to do?" Lucinda asked again. "Are you going with Carrow?"

She shook her head. "I'm meeting Queenie."

Lucinda blinked. "Queenie? Queenie Greengrass? But she graduated two years ago, didn't she?"

"So? We're having a few drinks and catching up," said Bellatrix with warm glow in her cheeks, her eyes fond at the recollection of the few encounters with Queenie. They weren't completely done with the thread of conversation they had face to face last time

"What's she up to nowadays?"

"She's interning with various magical creature reserves. The last letter I received was from a dragon reservation in Romania."

Lucinda's eyes widened with awe. "Oh wow."

Bellatrix nodded. "Indeed."

Lucinda eyed her shrewdly and then slowly grinned. "_Alriiiight,_ turning on the Black charm, eh? Just remember to wear your hair long — you'll look gorgeous." She waggled her eyebrows.

Bellatrix preened. "As always." She smirked.

Lucinda slumped and sighed. "I asked Carrow to join us for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, but he declined."

"If it makes you feel any better, Aubrey was also rejected."

Lucinda scoffed. "That Aubrey prat needs to stop showing up at the Infirmary with fake wounds or he'll have very real injuries from my wand," she growled, irritated. "And Carrow won't be there to save his sorry arse."

"You two would get along so well," Bellatrix said sardonically.

Lucinda glared at her and shook her head. "In million years, Black." She then shrugged. "I guess we'll be stalking you and Queenie."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare if you value your skills as a Quidditch Player, Lucinda."

Lucinda pouted.

* * *

><p><strong>TBWP<strong>

The wound did not heal completely yet. Even with his own attempt to heal the wound and almost drowning himself in medical potions, it was far from full recovery. Madam Pomfrey barely stifled a shriek when she saw Harry cleaning the wound with a detached expression.

Barely a week passed since the confrontation with Lucretia, and it was Hogsmeade weekend at Hogwarts.

Harry couldn't think of more opportune time. And he couldn't afford to lose any more time.

When Filch surveyed the last batch of students leaving the school ground, Harry headed to the Headmaster's office.

"I'm going in," he announced.

Dumbledore looked up from the Journal of Transfiguration he was reading. His blue eyes twinkled behind the half-moon spectacles. "Good luck, Harry. Are you sure you don't need my assistance?"

"No, I'll be fine by myself."

He took the Sorting Hat just in case. It let out an indignant grunt.

"If you scorch one loose string —"

"I won't," Harry cut off.

He flattened the hat and rolled it to fit inside his satchel.

Fawkes spread its wings in its full glory with a flap, bristling its fiery red feathers. Harry chuckled and scratched the spot below its beak.

"Yes, you've got my back, Fawkes."

Fawkes trilled proudly as if to reassure him.

Under the invisibility cloak, Harry set out to the first floor girl's lavatory. It was dark and grimy, faintly smelling of mold and damp water. The lavatory was flooded, his footsteps sounding more loudly as his feet waded through the water.

No longer able to hide his presence, Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak.

"Hello, Myrtle," said Harry calmly, raising his wand.


End file.
